Meaningless Meeting
by dracosgem
Summary: Sequel to Next To Me: Clare learns that darkness is a stepping stone to re-claiming the light...and, naturally, that light is Eli Goldsworthy... Inspired by the song Meaningless Meeting by Adaline.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_"Wait for the moment when judgment is faulted, your mindset insulted each time that you breathe..."_

Day Thirty-Seven was not much different from the day before. Unless you count the blizzard that whirled through Toronto, leaving the city buried under four feet of powder. Or, in my case, four feet of frozen irony...

I peered out of my bedroom window and shook my head at nature's sick sense of humor. It had covered my world in white crystal- soft, pure, finely milled- a shell of cold, pliant cotton.

The perfect lie.

Because, inside, I was anything but white. The bright, enthusiastic girl I'd once been was congealed- buried beneath her own bitter onus. It was easier to cower than to face the issue- the horrid, unspeakable truth that had befallen Degrassi Community School...that had befallen _me_.

Of course, I'd had to face it initially and, when I did, when I finally came to terms with the fact that my Eli was gone, something happened.

I'd..._cracked_.

I could admit it. His disappearance kick started a venture- a grave, reckless descent into the darker part of my psyche, a side I'd never acknowledged before. Looking back, I likened it to an emancipation- losing Eli had put things into perspective. It unraveled the binding that had kept me fixed in a thoughtless prison, rutted in the same, jilted mindset for fifteen years. It was a mentality propagated by my upbringing- an adolescence that reared a child of light, unfamiliar with the darker parts of the world.

Which made it that much worse when it all came crashing down around me.

I tugged on the cross around my neck and, for the umpteenth time, wondered why I still wore it. I was angry with God, angry that he had taken away something so precious. Eli might not have been family but he was close. Together, we were something special- our connection was almost...omnipotent. It was more than physical attraction, more than intellctual stimulation- Eli seemed to complete me in some way. Whenever he touched me, hell, whenever he spoke, my entire being came alive. My body would thrum with excitement and my mind would whirl- I had an actual, physical response to his presence and it wasn't at all disagreeable. Cocking my head, I finally put a finger on what it was...

Eli made my soul _sing_.

And now, I was lost without him- drifting through life- no course or direction.

I gripped the window sill in front of me, trying to contain the invective of feelings bubbling up inside. What had I done to deserve this? I'd been a good girl all my life...I'd stayed between the lines, my color never bleeding over, never staining the rest with its vivid hue. I'd been the perfect Christian- strong willed, heart centered, and content with my beliefs- but all that had been thrown assunder the moment a certain boy rode into town on his big, black hearse.

Looking up, I rolled my eyes. _Good Lord Clare, even your jokes are pathetic!_

I scoffed and palmed my face. That's exactly what I was. Before I had been naive but now...now, I was pathetic. It fit, it was the perfect adjunct, and I accepted it without hesitation.

Running a hand through my coal colored hair, I lost myself to the simple truth. I wasn't strong, my heart was black, and contempt was now the order of the day. Eli's departure had turned me. I felt positively run through and I wasn't sure that I could go on much longer. I had to know what had become of him- did he run, was he lost, was he..._dead_? The possibilties were making me crazy! So many things could have happened and I didn't have the first clue what they might be.

_Goddamn it, I need an answer! _

Anger came quickly these days. I could feel it licking my lower belly, spiraling upwards in a fiery torrent. As the fury surfaced, I let it take me, a loud scream ripping from the back of my throat. Clenching the curtains that framed my window, I turned and tore them off of their tiny dowel. The sound of ripping fabric and the splintering rod was somehow soothing. A manic grin split my features as I threw the drapes across the room. They spun outward and fluttered to the floor like dead, autumn leaves.

I glared at the Indigo fabric in irritation- it wasn't enough for me- the unsatisfying finale only enraged me more.

Turning right, I spied my orderly desktop and all but snarled. It was sickeningly organized: computer, files, disks, little figurines...and, last but not least, a picture of Adam and Eli. I swallowed hard. The photo had been taken just after Eli and I had ironed out the issues in our relationship. He and Adam were under our favorite tree, sprawled unceremoniously in the grass. I studied him for a moment. He was sporting a black eye and a swollen lip from his fight with Fitz but, even bruised the boy still managed to look beautiful. There was something about his eyes. They were brilliant and knowing and they sparkled with mischief as he gazed at the camera...as he gazed at _me_.

Closing my eyes, I let out a heavy breath and, with a firm sweep of my arm, sent everything on the desktop to the floor. Luckily, I didn't kill my laptop- it hung off the side of the desk by its cord but, even still, I contemplated throwing the damn thing just for kicks. My breathing was labored, as it always was after one of these little episodes, and my eyes fluttered as the adrenaline flooded my system. From the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, the heady rush made it all go away- the pain, the struggle, everything...

Destruction had become my release.

I snorted- the idea was oddly bizarre. _Clare Edwards, the ruffian._

The door to my room flew open and I flinched in response. My mother and father stood on the other side of the jamb, looking every bit the part of worried parents.

I groaned inwardly.

"Clare, what on earth are you _doing_?" My mother was obviously irritated but her voice just sounded weary.

I blinked, trying to come up with a good explanation for why my room looked like it'd been hit by a hurricane.

My father furrowed his brow. "Sweetie, are you..." he paused, as if trying to decide on the right words, "feeling alright?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why? You want to shove another bottle of anti-depressants down my throat?" I snapped, fingering the pockets of my dark, skinny jeans.

He took a step back and shook his head. "Not at all, honey-"

"Spare me all the 'sweetie' and 'honey' crap, dad," I growled. "I'm not in the mood."

"_Clearly_," my mother drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a pretty, wrap dress in light blue but it did nothing for her. In fact, it made her look gaunt and a bit drawn- a lot like me.

I leveled my gaze with hers and we stared at each other in provocation.

"Clare, I know this whole Eli situation has been difficult for you," she began, her tone laced with bitterness, "but please keep in mind that there are rules in this house we expect you to follow. If you cannot abide by them, then perhaps we should take away the more expensive things in your possession."

"Go ahead!" I exploded, kicking at the pile of curtains on the floor. "Take it all! I don't care about any of this stuff! It's not like it's made a difference in my life."

As the words slipped out, I realized how true they really were. My mother could threaten me all she wanted! Everything that mattered had already been taken away- nothing in this room would make any difference at all. It was material- it was just _stuff_. None of it had anything to do with who I was, it didn't make Clare Edwards. In fact, it'd probably hindered more than helped because it was a distraction, a diversion from what was really important.

I opened and closed my mouth, blown away by this epiphany. All this time, I'd been living a lie and now I was forced to own up to my decisions...to my beliefs...to my judgments. This life...this _joke _I'd been forced to endure had created an image, not a person. That's all I was- an image, a figment, a clay pigeon- my life was the reflection of my mentality. I relied on everyone and everything else to tell me who I was. I had never looked within. Didn't that somehow make me a conformist? I really had no clue who the hell I was or what the hell I wanted. I was adrift, I was idle, I was wasted...

And I was through with it.

Storming the corridor, my parents jumped sideways as I approached. It seemed they were intimidated by my wrathful expression, not that I blamed them. Flying down the stairs, I threw open the front door and skipped off the stoop. Wading into an alabaster sea, I was halfway down the road before I noticed I'd forgotten a jacket. The air was frigid and my breath was personified- a dancing gale of icy mist with each heavy puff I took. I hugged my chest as the bitter wind ripped through me. My thin, black sweater did nothing to stop winter's callous hand from giving me a nice, hard smack and I shivered, wishing I'd thought twice before barreling out of the house.

"Well, well, if it isn't Clare Edwards!"

I knew that voice but I was in no mood to deal with it. So I kept walking, intent on making it to The Dot before I died of hypothermia.

"You know, you look pretty cold. Maybe you'd like to get in and warm up?"

I paused and glanced to my right. Fitz was creeping beside me in his old Bronco, looking a bit flushed from the heat pumping through its wide, open vents. The thought of climbing inside was more than a little tempting- nice, warm air, soft, fabric seats...but this was Fitz! The same guy who'd beaten my boyfriend to a bloody pulp not two months before...

I clenched my fists and pushed the thought of Eli away.

"Come on, Clare!" he pressed. "I won't bite."

Raising a brow, I took in his suggestive expression. "But you'd like to, I assume?"

"No comment," he rejoined, trying to throw me off his scent. He was doing a horrible job- a wide smile spread over his face and his eyes were dancing with excitement.

_Maybe Adam has a point...Fitz does seem a little _into_ me... _I bit my lip and stared at him. Was it possible that this was all a front, that he had hurt Eli to get to me? Cocking my head, I frowned. It didn't seem likely. He'd be a damn fool to go right for the girl after doing something so reckless. The idea was a bit far fetched- not even Fitz was dumb enough to do something that impetuous.

"Wow, I'm flattered, Edwards..._really_..."

I blinked and shook my head, a light blush creeping up my neck when I realized I'd been staring at him for a full minute. "S-sorry," I stuttered, unsure if it was due to embarrassment or frost bite.

Fitz smirked. "Trust me, it's no problem," he drawled, eyes drinking me in with startling voracity.

It caused an odd stirring in my belly- I couldn't be sure if it was enticement or flatulence- but either way, I found it unnerving. Since when did Fitz cause any sort of reaction in me? That type of thing had always been reserved for Eli and Eli alone.

"Get in the truck Clare."

I stepped back and shook my head.

"Don't be silly, you're frozen solid!" He was pushing now.

"N-no, I-I'm alr- right," I was shivering uncontrollably and my body was beginning to hurt. It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing me all at once.

Fitz pulled to a stop and got out of the truck, loping towards me with a determined expression. I began to back away but he managed to catch me around the wrist. Pulling me forward, I landed against his chest with a great oomph! I wanted to flee, really, I did, but his body was like heaven- warm and soft and oh so welcoming. I could even overlook the heavy callouses on his large palm- his skin was _that _warm.

"Holy Shit, you're freezing!" he exclaimed.

I opened my mouth to protest but, before I could, Fitz scooped his arm under my knees and picked me up bridal style.

"F-Fitz, p-put m-me do-down..." I sputtered indignantly.

"No way," he shot back. My mouth fell open when I saw his expression was clouded with worry. "I'm putting you in the truck before you die of hyperthermia."

"H-hypo..." I stuttered.

He snorted and tromped over to the massive Bronco, boots crunching through the heavy snow bank. "Always the academic, even in possibe death," he retorted, tossing me onto the seat like a rag doll.

I wrinkled my nose in aggravation- I hated being treated like a helpless damsel. Placing my hands on either side of my body, I made to hop out of the passenger door but one thing kept me from doing so. The heat, the wonderful, glorious, magnificent, utopian...

_No, it's evil Clare! The heat is evil! Now get out of the truck..._

But I couldn't move. I was so cold I was practically petrified and every time I tried to stir, a shot of sheer agony would course through my body. Fitz slid onto the seat next to me and threw an arm around my shoulders, tucking me closer to him than I would have liked. Normally, I would object but I was so damn cold I couldn't even blink!

"Now, where were you headed?" he asked, looking down at me in question.

"D-d-d..." I sounded like I had a speech impediment.

Fitz wrinkled his brow. "Dot?" he supplied.

I nodded since I had lost control of my tongue.

He leaned down and turned up the heat, a blast of tepid air rolling over my frozen skin. I reveled in the dual warmth of Fitz's body heat and the truck's toasty atmosphere. The ride was quiet and a bit awkward, at least for me. Fitz seemed totally at ease which I found a little strange. After everything that had happened, he seemed so unconcerned, so light. In retrospect, I guess it made sense. He and Eli had never been friends so I couldn't expect him to be in mourning or anything.

We pulled to a stop in front of The Dot and, shifting in his seat, Fitz cleared his throat. I glanced up at him- he looked uncomfortable. It was a rare moment of incongruity and it left me gobsmacked.

"Um..." he blew out a heavy breath and I raised my brows, still thrown by his uneasiness. "I, uh, wanted to say that I'm sorry." He paused, raking his teeth over his lower lip- back and forth, back and forth- it made a small, squeaking sound that drove me nuts.

"For what?" _Thank the Lord, my voicebox has defrosted!_

He grimaced and closed his eyes. "Eli," he gritted out.

I gaped at him in acrimonious disbelief. No way had he just said that...said _his _name. For some reason Fitz even thinking about Eli made me see red.

"Why?" I hissed.

He glanced down at me and his mouth fell open. "I..." Clamping his teeth together, he blinked at my hardened expression. We stared at each other for a moment- my face an intense allegation, his a tender overature.

"_FITZ_!" A loud thumping on the window broke the spell.

Turning away from me, he rolled down the frost covered glass. "What?" he demanded, his tone thick with annoyance.

The guy outside of the truck leaned forward and I caught a glimpse of his face. It was Michael- the same guy I'd seen at The Dot not three days earlier. "Dude, we need to talk," he murmured in a low voice. "There's been a-" His eyes flickered over to where I was sitting and I swear they about popped out of his skull. "_C-Clare_?"

I opened my mouth to respond but Fitz beat me to the punch.

"Yeah, you know Edwards." His voice was cocky and knowing, the same tone he used in school.

I rolled my eyes in censure. "Fitz and I were just carpooling," I replied. "I'll run along so you two can talk."

"No, wait Clare," Fitz reached out to grab my hand but I pulled away.

"Thanks for the ride," I said in a formal tone.

Jumping out of the Bronco, I sidestepped Michael as he loped over to the passenger side. He kept his eyes on the dirty snow, purposely avoiding contact. I frowned- the boy was a bit anti-social when it came to me. He got into the truck and, as he closed the door, he finally looked up. There was that grave, dour expression that made my breath catch. I stared at him, locked in on his obvious turmoil...I could certainly relate. Michael held my gaze and, as they pulled away, it seemed to get more desperate. I watched them head down the street, the Bronco's tail lights fading in the distance and one thought cycling through my head: What is up with that kid?

"_CLARE_!"

I spun around, clutching my chest in shock. Adam was speeding towards me, his face alight with anticipation. He skidded to a halt a few inches from where I stood but his balding Doc Martins caught a patch of ice and he slid into me, arms wrapping around my shoulders as we toppled backwards into the snow.

"Ow!" I groused. "What are you doing, Adam!"

"They..." He hesitated, trying to cath his breath. Pounding the ground beside us, he finally managed to calm down. "They found Eli's jacket!"

My entire body went rigid. I rolled sideways and he slid off of me into the bank beside us. Sitting up, I grabbed Adam by the lapel of his ridiculous vest and pulled him into my face. His eyes were as wide as saucers and he peered at me in terrified astonishment.

"Tell me everything or I'll have your balls before you get the chance to grow a pair," I growled.

"Er...well, two men were fishng in between the upper and lower Don- about five miles south of where The Ravine gulley flows into the river- and they found an old military jacket," Adam explained, his voice constricted with worry. "Inside they discovered Eli's flask and..." he trailed off, looking down at my hands in hesitation.

"And what?" I demanded, giving him a good shake.

He looked up at me, eyes shining with some sort of hidden emotion. "A picture of you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_"I can lie to myself, I can lie to myslf, I can be what you want me to be..."_

You would think that finding a shred of Eli would lighten things up, that it would make me hopeful, joyful, and, perhaps, even dandy. You would think that it would right my caddywhompus world and that everything would return to the way that it was- I would become the same, old Clare, trading in my stark, gothic appeal for bright, round cheeks and sweet, innocent eyes.

You would think.

When Adam first told me they'd found Eli's jacket, I was optimistic. In fact, I was so excited I insisted that we go down to the Don River and talk to the fishermen who found it. I wanted to garner as much information as possible. The two men- Ajali and Faraja Kafeet, brothers visting Toronto from Mozambique- had been fishing for nearly an hour when Ajali snagged the holey, military coat and reeled it in. He searched the pockets, lookng for some idea of who it could belong to. All he found was a small, silver hip flask and a photograph. Apparently, the picture had been the only thing to connect the coat back to Eli. It was my Facerange profile pic- Eli had printed it out, sheathed it in plastic, and kept it in the inner breast pocket of his coat.

Right over his heart.

That was like a shot to mine...especially when time passed without any further word. The tip lines had lit up after they found the coat- people claiming to have seen a boy Eli's age in dark clothing walking down the side of the Don Valley Parkway- but the leads were sketchy and nothing turned up. By the end of that first week, the image of Eli back in my arms had slipped away. I found myself in a rougher spot than I'd been in before and I hated it. It was then that I realized how angry I really was at God. He was messing with me, taunting me, and I refused to deal with it any longer.

My mother never asked what happened to my crucifix.

But, at present, God was the last thing on my mind. I was too busy trying to walk a straight line down the hallway. I'd found that covering an eye seemed to help but, as I staggered through the corridor, people kept shooting me looks. _Probably wondering why jilted Clare Edwards is trying to emulate One Eyed Willie. _

I snorted, stumbled sideways, and nearly took out Bianca DeSousa as she rummaged through her locker. Her hands shot out and gripped me by the arms, a hard scowl on her dark face.

"Watch where you're going, bitch!" she growled.

I sneered up at her, trying to look tough, but it did little to intimidate Bianca. Quirking a brow, her eyes raked me over- small, lithe, and slightly swaying- and I watched her expression go from angry to amused.

Letting me go, she crossed her arms over her chest and chuckled. "Too much sauce, Edwards?" she drawled. Her voice was melodic but, the way she used it- rough and clipped- made it sound menacing.

Waving a hand, I attempted to look as sober as possible. "I've no clue what you're talking about," I slurred. I had hoped to come off as dismissive but I had a feeling it was more a garbled mess.

She smirked at me. "Please, you're completely wasted!"

Was it me or did she actually sound...proud? The idea made me want to giggle. Bianca DeSousa was _proud _of Clare Edwards. It was so absurd, it was funny.

She frowned as I wobbled sideways and let loose a stream of giggles. "What the hell are you laughing at, Edwards?"

Trying to regain my balance, I put a hand on the locker next to me. "You sound pleased, Bianca," I choked out. "It's funny."

She shook her head in amused exasperation. "Damn, you're thrashed!" she exclaimed. Glancing down both ends of the hallway, she leaned forward in a conspiring manner. "Got anymore?"

I fingered my backpack and nodded. "Half a bottle of vodka."

She threw an arm around my shoulder. "Come on."

Something inside told me not to listen to anything Bianca DeSousa had to say but, another part of me- the one called Stolichnaya- was pushing me to follow. Snuffing out my inner 'good girl', I let Bianca tug me down the hall towards a pair of double doors that led to student parking.

"I don't have my coat," I murmured.

"You won't need it."

She offered nothing more so I shrugged and kept after her. Bianca threw open the doors and pulled me outside. It was mid-afternoon, just an hour before school would let out, and the air was warmer than I expected. The sun had burned off most of the heavy snow from the week before- you could actually see the sidewalks and roadways now- and it bore down on us, setting the frosted ground ablaze. I trailed after Bianca as she wove through cars in the senior section and then made a beeline for an old van parked towards the back of the lot.

_Owen's van. _I hesitated.

Bianca threw a questioning look over her shoulder. "What gives?" she demanded.

My eyes flickered towards the van and I furrowed my brows. "I...don't know about this..."

She lifted a brow. "I thought we were gonna party?" she replied. "That is, unless you're scared."

I didn't miss the challenge in her voice and, for some reason, it made me want to rise to the occasion. I was done with being the sheltered, little prude- I wanted to feel something, anything, that might bring this mess I called a life into focus. I needed to break out and if that meant hanging out with Bianca and her crew, then, so be it.

Throwing my shoulders back, I strutted up to her, trying not to slide every which way. "Let's do this."

Bianca grinned and grabbed my hand. "Knew you had it in you, Edwards."

We pulled up next to the van and she banged on the icy window. The curtains covering the glass parted. I could just make out Owen Milligan's face behind the frost-caked pane. His features split into a wide smile when he saw Bianca but, as his eyes darted in my direction, his expression became positively feral. He threw open the door, a cloud of heavy, herbal smoke billowing out of the van, and looked me up and down.

"_Edwards_?" he said, not bothering to address the girl beside me.

I blinked up at him, surprised by the intrigue in his voice...and the way he was looking at me. Shifting in discomfort, I tried to ignore the fact that he was undressing me with his eyes. The look on his face was one of pure hunger and, again, I felt that odd stirring in my gut.

Owen glanced over his shoulder, looking quite pleased with something. "What are _you _doing here?"

Bianca stepped forward, hands on her hips. "She's _my _guest."

Owen looked at her and smirked. "Yeah?"

She nodded, wearing an identical expression. "And she brought party favors."

His mouth fell open. "_Baby Edwards _brought favors?" he cried, his tone mocking. "Now that _is _a surprise!"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, and I can take them with me just as easily," I snapped. My attempt at intimidation was undermined by my inability to stand up straight. I swayed on my feet, grabbing the side of the van to steady myself.

Owen's eye sparkled with mirth. "Duly noted, babe," he replied. "Looks like you've gotten into them already."

Bianca puffed out a heavy breath. "Owen, as much as I'd love to sit here and watch the two of you flirt, I'm freezing my ass off! Can we come in, or what?"

I blushed and looked down at my feet. I was _not _flirting with Owen Milligan! He was just so...annoying! Besides, I was drunk as hell and I couldn't control the feelings speeding through me without course.

"You bet," he said, moving aside as Bianca stepped up into the van. I watched her disappear into the vehicle's dark interior, her bright red hoodie and darkwash jeans no longer visible in the unlit hull.

Owen held out a hand. "Come on in, Edwards," he drawled.

I looked down at his large palm and bit my lip. Somehow, I knew that my whole life would turn with this one, little decision. Granted, it could very well be the alcohol clouding my judgment but, for just a moment, I felt as though I were standing before the Gates of Hell and that, Owen- my own private Virgil- would lead me through its murky caverns. I'd never known Hell, never known what it was like to be bad...to throw caution to the wind and let it all go. I was unfamiliar with envy, gluttony, pride, sloth, greed, and lust. Well, maybe not lust- I'd experienced plenty of that with Eli but it was very different from what Owen's crew offered. With Eli it was passion but, for them, it was meaningless gratification. And then, of course, there was anger. _That_, I knew. In fact, it was anger pushing me to take Owen's hand, to journey down into the pit.

"I won't bite, Clare." Owen smirked and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Unless, of course, you want me to."

I looked him straight in the eye and saw the question: _Do you have what it takes, Edwards? _

A subtle burning rolled through my body and I straightened with forced bravado. My gaze dropped to his hand and I pulled a deep breath.

_Now or never... _Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took Owen's hand. He pulled me forward- eyes glinting with mischief, face donning a lecherous smirk. I swear, in the short time I'd been at Degrassi Community School I'd never seen Owen Milligan look so smug. It made me wonder what I'd gotten myself into.

"Excellent," he drawled. His voice was a low octave, thrumming through our joined hands like a tinny, buzzsaw.

Climbing into the van, I attempted to locate an empty seat but, as Owen shut the door behind me, the darkness became palpable. There were curtains on every window and a thick piece of fabric hung between the hull and the cab area. I couldn't see a thing! I heard Owen shift behind me and he gave my backside a light shove. I stumbled forward and gasped as I landed in someone's lap. A pair of large hands smoothed over my hips, gripping me tightly around the waist.

"Nice to see you too, Edwards..."

_Oh crap- Fitz. _

I blushed furiously and scrambled up off his lap but my bag snagged on something behind me, knocking me right back down. I squeaked, completely flustered by the situation.

"Jeez Clare, it's me!" Owen chuckled as he tried to extricate the bag from my shoulders. "Just trying to make you more comfortable..."

I didn't miss the suggestive lilt in his voice. Rolling onto the seat next to Fitz, I scooted to my left and had a look around. As my vision acclimated to the dark interior, I saw that, besides me, there were four others in the van. Bianca was seated at the very back...next to Michael. I gazed at him for a moment but he kept his eyes trained on his boots. Fitz was to my right and Owen threw himself down on the other side of me, his large body a little too close for my liking. I shifted a bit but there was nowhere for me to go- I was sandwiched between Owen and Fitz on a long bench flanking the wall across from the door.

He switched on the radio and a slow, accoustic set beat through the speakers. "You want a hit of this, Edwards?"

He held out a lit cigar- I was pretty sure it wasn't filled with tobacco. As he thrust it forward, a tangy aroma drifted towards me- confirming my suspicions. I swallowed hard- I'd never tried marijuana in my life. In fact, this was the first time I'd ever gotten drunk. I had a feeling that pairing the two would be hazardous to my mental health.

"Not copping out on us, are you?" he pressed.

"She doesn't have to smoke if she doesn't want to," Fitz snapped.

I frowned up at him in confusion. For the second time in a week Mark Ftizgerald had rendered me speechless. He seemed so...concerned. It was making me nuts. Long ago we'd established our formal, social quotas- I was the bookish prude, he was the head thumping neandrathal- but his recent behavior had begun to infringe on our communal boundaries. Fitz clearly wanted to destroy the barrier that divided us and there could be only one reason for that.

He _does _like me.

Everything began to come into focus- even in the midst of my alcohol-induced state. Since Eli had disappeared, Fitz had been overly hospitable- he'd even made overtures towards Adam- it was so blatant, it bordered on sentimental. Only two things could spur this kind of conduct- guilt or affection. In my case, I think it was a little of both. It actually made sense. If Fitz liked me, he probably felt bad about everything that had happened. Now he was trying to make amends. It was sweet, in a twisted sort of way.

Regardless, I could never like Fitz. Nothing would ever compare to my connection with Eli. We were...fated. I know it sounded cliche but, it was true. He was the Burt to my Ernie, the Fred to my Ethel, the Moon to my Sun- he was evertyhing to me and all else paled in his lunar light.

The thought of him gripped my heart and I closed my eyes, trying to will my tears into submission. The last thing I wanted to do was break down in the middle of Owen's van- I didn't think I could deal with his taunting. Heaving a breath, the pain diminished slightly and I cracked open my eyes.

The lit cigar still hovered in front of me.

I looked at it. The temptation growing strongerwith each passing second. I felt my resolve begin to crumble under the weight of circumstance- Eli, my parents, Adam, school, my faith- everything seemed far away. It was like it didn't even exist. Maybe...

Maybe a hit would help quash the pain.

"Chill out man, I was just joking!" Owen shot back. Gesturing to the other two, he smirked. "Bianca, you want this blunt?"

She nodded and slid forward.

"Wait."

Every eye in the van turned towards me in total astonishment...including Michael's.

"I...I want to try it," I breathed.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises," Owen teased.

He handed me the blunt and I took it out of his stubby fingers.

"Clare, wait." Fitz put a hand on my arm and I glanced at him in question. "You'll want to make your fist hit nice and slow. If you do it too fast you'll be hacking for a good ten minutes-"

"She'll be hacking either way, dude," Bianca cut in, a wicked grin playing on her lips.

Fitz shot her a dark look and continued. "_Anyway_, put your lips up to the filter..."

He guided the cigar up to my mouth and I wrapped my lips around the end. Fitz's eyes widened, his gaze locked in on the movement and I heard Owen suck in a breath beside me. Clearly, the sight of little Clare Edwards sucking on a cigar was something of a novelty.

"Um..." He swallowed hard. "Now, pull a long, slow breath."

I obediently followed his instructions. And boy, was Bianca right. As the harsh, herbal exhaust entered my lungs, I thought I might actually die. I coughed for a good five minutes. It was so bad, Bianca had to break out the bottle of vodka and give me a shot. That seemed to help...my throat. It did not, however, help my fuzzy consciousness.

An hour of shots and pot later, I was slumped in my seat, staring at the curtains that hung around the van. They reminded me a bit of the drab drapes hanging in Eli's hearse. To my surprise, the thought of Eli no longer caused that detrimental response I'd become so accustomed to. I smiled at the realization- it seemed that smoke and alcohol was a winning combination.

Fitz was seated next to me, drumming his legs as a new song pumped through the speakers, and Bianca and Michael were engaged in a thumb war, laughing hysterically every time one of them lost. Owen was at my feet, staring at me with a licentious expression.

"I've gotta take a leak," Fitz said suddenly. He rose from his spot next to me and threw open the door. Stumbling out of the van, he disappeared into a blazing white out.

Owen shut the door behind him and rose from his spot on the floor. Sitting down next to me, he put his arm over the back of my seat and leaned forward. I glanced at him, startled by his sudden proximity.

"You know Edwards," he began, his breath hot against my skin, "you're pretty fucking hot."

I looked away, hoping to get Bianca's attention. No such luck- she was busy making out with Michael.

"You like to watch?" Owen asked, his chest pushing against my shoulder.

"N-no," I whispered. My head was spinning and I didn't know how to feel about his nearness.

"I don't think I believe you," he breathed. His hand came up on the back of my neck and I stiffened. "Relax, babe...I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, pain is the last thing on my mind..."

Turning to face him, I nibbled my lower lip. "What do you mean?" I slurred, my eyes fluttering slightly. Between the pot, the alcohol, and Owen's body heat, I was having a hard time staying conscious.

"Oh, I think you know," he replied, sliding his other hand up over my knee.

I cursed myself for wearing a skirt today. Of course, I had also donned a pair of thick, black tights but it didn't seem to slow Owen's progress. My stomach twisted in knots as he ran his hand down the interior part of my leg. I was positively thrashed- the good girl had passed out hours ago- and I couldn't deny the small rush I experienced from the attention.

Creeping steadily forward, Owen swept my hair aside and planted a light kiss on the column of my neck. "So fucking gorgeous," he drawled, his tongue darting out to sweep over my skin. "Even goth you look good. I've been hard since you got in the van, Edwards..."

I gasped as the implication of his behavior finally dawned on me. What the hell was I doing? No matter how good the 'rush' might feel, no matter how wasted I was- I could not give into Owen Milligan. I was in love with Eli, dammit! He'd been missing for, what, a month and a half...and here I was, looking to fool around with someone else?

_I don't think so!_Narrowing my eyes, I gritted my teeth. I knew what this was all about. Owen was notorious for his conquests and I'd bet money Clare Edwards would be the score of the season.

Pushing against his chest, I shook my head. "No, Owen."

He smirked down at me. "Yes, Clare..."

I squeaked as he snaked his hand up under my skirt, thick fingers brushing against my inner thigh. He pushed me down onto the bench, covering my mouth with his. It was putrid- his tongue wormed through my clenched lips and I moaned in protest. Of course, he thought I was enjoying it. Pressing his lower body against mine, he pried my legs apart in an effort to lock into me. I struggled against him but my body was sluggish from the drugs and all I could do was cry. The tears leaked from my eyes as he began to focus on my upper body. His breath was a muggy stench blowing over my ear and he nibbled my lobe as his hand cupped my breast.

"Shit, Clare," he groaned. "I'm going to show you what a _real _man can do for you..."

That was it- something inside of me snapped and I promptly exploded. "Get _off _of me!" I shrieked.

Fitz opened the door just as the high sign left my lips. Michael and Bianca broke apart, both looking alarmed as Owen was dragged out of the van by one foot.

"You motherfucker!" Fitz shouted, his face twisting in fury.

"She was begging for it, man," Owen bellowed. "I swear...ask Bianca!"

But Fitz was not to be deterred and I watched in horror as the scene before me began to unfold.

I had never witnessed a real fight before. Sure, I'd seen boxing matches on television, when my dad had the occassion to watch one. But this...this was different. As Fitz pummeled Owen into submission, my stomach lurched in discomfort and I wrung my hands. The swearing, the crack of bones, the blood- it was a violent ballet and, as Owen's face smacked the pavement and a splatter of red liquid oozed from his nose, I couldn't hold back. I bent over the side of the van and purged everything: the anger, the sorrow, the stress..._everything_.

Peering down at my puddle of pain, I covered my face in shame. _What the hell is happening to me?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_"I can make myself feel want I want to believe, I am free, I am free, I am free..."_

After everything that had happened with Owen, I decided I'd seen enough of Hell. Purgatory was a better place for me anyway. At least in limbo, I didn't have to decide how to feel- I could just...drift. No rules, no expectations, nothing to box me in- I was free.

Or so I liked to think.

But no matter how hard I tried to simply exist, I was still anguished. I couldn't escape the pain. It followed me everywhere I went. Like an ominous cloud, it bore down on me- the faster I ran the more it gained. I was beginning to understand Eli's issue with bullies. If you couldn't outrun them and you couldn't stop them, what could you do? It was a little difficult to turn the other cheek with something that wouldn't do the same. In hindsight, it was ironic- utter void had become my tomentor and I was unable to do a thing to stop it. The void was...

It just...was.

I was living my own personal Tribulation and I finally understood what all the hoopla was about. My whole life I'd listened to my priest, listened to the words of Christ, but I'd never heard them. He'd spoken of the Great Tribulation- that time of brutal suffering that cast light to dark- but I'd always assumed it was something that occured to people as a whole. Now I understood that it was something personal, something deeply private. For, when it came to faith, _person _was crucial. I was living my own life and basing my beliefs on lesson, experience, and relationship. I realized now that the 'image' of God I held in my mind was quite different than the one held by my priest...or even the one held by my mother. Faith was looked on through individual eyes. Therefore, person, or _self_, made the final decision to believe. _I _was the one who had to liberate, who had to crucify the things that stood between me and love, between me and Eli.

But how do you conquer void?

Because that's what Eli's absence was. It was numbing and senseless and oh so bereft. And now that I was living my leg of suffering, I didn't know what to believe. I'd put my faith in God, in love, and look where it landed me- without the person who made my soul sing. I was so out of sorts that nothing could cut through the constant turmoil.

_Nothing_.

"Clare."

I looked up from the book I wasn't reading. I was seated at a small table in the back of the library and Adam stood over me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Oh...hey," I replied, closing my text.

He dropped into the seat next to me. "Why didn't you tell me what happened with Owen?"

I blinked in surprise. Adam was never one to beat around the bush but, his voice was different than usual- instead of snarky and demanding it was soft and meek- and it threw me off guard.

"Clare?" he pressed, pulling his brows together.

I blew out a heavy breath. "Because I didn't want to worry you."

"So you let me hear it from some tenth grade stoner in my art class?" he snapped. "Not cool, Clare."

"I...didn't know what to say," I admitted. "There's not exactly a handbook on how to tell your friend that you were molested in the back of some guy's van."

Adam clenched his fists. "He touched you?"

I gaped at him in astonishment- I'd never seen him look so angry, not even when he was at war with Fitz.

"Um...well, he, uh..." I trailed off, not quite sure how to answer. I didn't want to serve as a catalyst for another conflict.

"It's a yes or no question, Clare." His voice was low and even, almost dangerous.

"Look, nothing happened...that's all that matters."

"You've been hanging out with Fitz." It wasn't an inquest.

"No."

"Don't lie to me!" he shouted.

The entire library went quiet. I mean, deadly quiet. You could hear a pin drop on the rug from twenty paces. I looked around the room, startled by all the eyes looking back at me. Fidgeting in my seat, my gaze darted every which way before landing on the last person I wanted to see. The very person, in fact, that we were arguing over. Fitz was looking at me, as per usual, but for the first time ever he wore an expression of absolute misery. It was so raw, it literally stole my breath. Glancing away from him, I was met by Adam's angry expression.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?" he demanded.

I opened my mouth to respond but Adam kept on.

"Eli's gone for less than two months and you're fooling around with the biggest dick in school! Do you think he would do that to you, Clare? You were _everything _to him!"

Adam was livid, his voice strained with rancor.

"I am _not _fooling around," I growled, my face flushing in irritation.

"Then what the hell were you doing in Owen's van, checking the fluid levels?" he shot back.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him. "Enough with the sarcasm, Adam," I snapped. "And for your information, I did not go to hang out with Owen and Fitz. I went to hang out with Bianca."

"Oh, because that's _so much better_!" he replied, tone laced with mock amusement.

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm glad it's so easy for you Adam...glad you can go on living as if nothing happened, glad you can actually function," I snarled, batting at the tears that welled in my eyes. "But it doesn't work that way for me. You see, a piece of me is gone...lost...vamoosed. I'm not living- life isn't exactly the word for what I'm doing. I'm just...here."

Adam's expression softened and he heaved a sigh. Reaching out, he took my hand in his. I looked down at our interlaced fingers- his olive pigment and clean, white nails were in direct contrast to my pale skin and indigo polish. For a moment, I was reminded of what it was like to hold Eli's hand.

"I don't pretend to know what you're going through," he whispered, "but I do know that hanging out with Bianca and...Fitz," he visibly grimaced, "is not the answer to your problems."

I looked him dead in the eye. "Then what is?" I asked. "I've tried everything else- prayer, hope, optimism- everything I was raised to believe in, everything I was told would pull me through. But nothing can stop this...this..._void _from eating me alive! The only time I felt even remotely normal was when I sat in the back of that van, totally out of my head."

"But-"

"Even that had negative consequence," I cut in. "I know..."

Staring at me, he bit his lip.

With a sigh, I stood up and shoved my text book in my bag. "It doesn't matter what I do, Adam...everything I touch turns to shit." Slinging it over my shoulder, I gave him a forced smile. "I'll see you later."

"Let me-"

"No. I need some time alone."

"_More _time alone?" he questioned. It was clear he didn't like the idea. "Clare..."

"Don't worry, I'm not contemplating suicide," I assured him. "I just need a few hours." Pausing, I swept my bangs out of my face. "Come by my house after school, if you want. My parents are meeting with their therapist so we'll have the place to ourselves."

Adam nodded in concession. "Alright," he said. "I'll see you then."

Hitching my bag, I turned on my heel and wove through the crowded library. I ignored all the prying eyes, keeping my gaze trained on the floor. It was odd- I felt so completely alone, even in the middle of all these people. Bitterness was my boundary and I was the boy in the bubble- a freak on display. Funny how the pain ripped through you at every point- internally, externally- attacking from all sides. I couldn't expect these people to understand- they didn't know what it was like to lose something that meant the world to you. They were all living their little lives, free of angst and strife- the ultimate utopia. But I knew the truth. At some point, everyone in this room would know heartache.

I swept through the door and was halfway down the hall when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

Stopping in my tracks, I blew out a breath. "What do you want, Fitz?"

I didn't need to turn around to know it was him.

"Damn, am I that predictable?" he teased.

I glanced back at him, a sober look on my face. "Yep."

He raised his brows in surprise. "Oh, well...uh..." he stammered, his face going pink.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone right now."

I turned away but he placed a hand on my shoulder. "I wanted to apologize for what happened with Owen."

"Don't bother..." I muttered, trying to pull away.

Fitz tightened his hold on me. "It was out of line. I just want you to know that it would never have happened if I'd stayed in the van."

I spun around and crossed my arms over my chest. "So what, you're blaming yourself for what Owen did?" I replied.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he said, guilt clear on his face. "I shouldn't have left you alone and I'm sorry."

I gaped at him in disbelief. When had Fitz taken it upon himself to become my guardian? Ever since Eli's disappearance, he had been overly protective and almost sentinel-like. The entire situation was so frickin' bizarre- I could not wrap my head around it! Biting my lip, I considered that he might be worried, just like Adam. If he liked me, it certainly made sense. But I couldn't get over the feeling that there was something that I was missing. The way Fitz was acting, it was almost as if he was trying to redeem himself _through me_.

The idea made me chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You're always telling me you're sorry, Fitz," I drawled. "Maybe it's time for some new material."

He looked down at his boots in discomfort. "You're probably right," he admitted.

I raised a brow. "You do know what they say, don't you?"

His eyes flickered up to mine in question.

"Misery loves company."

He frowned. "Are you trying to tell me I'm miserable?" he asked.

There was something about the way he was looking at me. His expression, though clouded with consternation, was open, it was unobstructed, and for the first time I could see what lay behind the mask.

_Vulnerability_...

Cocking my head, I took a step forward. "I don't know, Fitz..._are _you?"

He stared at me in silence and I watched the varied emotion play over his face. From surprise to confusion to anger, and, finally, distress- it was full on, performance art. Fitz shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze dropping to the floor. I didn't miss the way his cheeks flushed and his brow furrowed, as if I'd hit very close to home. I began to wonder if there was more to Mark Fitzgerald than I had ever given him credit for. At the moment he seemed so...excessible. What was more, he seemed just as agonized as I was.

_Now this is an interesting turn... _I took another step forward, trying to get a read on his emotions but, before I could, his head snapped up and he sneered at me in disgust. Just like that, the wall was back up and the real Fitz was nowhere to be seen.

"That's all I wanted to say," he snapped. "See ya' around."

And with that, he was gone and I was left to ponder what the hell had just happened. The look on his face had been one of torment and I wondered what it was that could make him him feel such anguish. Had he lost something, done something...had he suffered as I had? As I was? Round and round I went, trying to find the chink in his armor- I didn't know much about him so trying to put a finger on what made him tick was almost impossible. Nevertheless, there was something pushing me on, something telling me that I needed to know what was making Fitz so unhappy.

_"ADAM TORRES AND CLARE EDWARDS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY."_

I flinched as the announcement blasted over the PA system. It echoed down the hallway, its signal bouncing off metal lockers and freshly polished floors.

_Great, what now? _I began my lowly treck to Simpson's office, worried that this might have something to do with Fitz and Owen. I had been left out of the questioniong last week, I suspected, because of Fitz. Both he and Owen had been suspended for two days- Bianca and Michael had been called up to the office- but I hadn't heard a word. Furrowing my brow, I considered that this night not be about the fight. They had called Adam in, too. So if it wasn't about the fight then...

_Eli_.

My heart started to pound and I shot down the hall like a bat out of hell. I was no athlete but it seemed I'd found the one thing that could motivate a five minute mile. Streaking past groups of students, past coupled teachers, I pushed on- trying to get to Simpson's office as quickly as possible.

By the time I got there, I thought I was going to keel over. I puffed and heaved, trying to get air into my lungs but my body wasn't cooperating. The oxygen couldn't cycle fast enough to keep up with my anxiety. I was a mess of nerves and it only got worse as Adam made the turn into the office and began to jabber incessantly.

"Do you think they found him? Oh my God, what if they found him! Clare! Why aren't you talking? Clare? Oh shit, I think she's going into shock!" He turned to his right and began waving at someone in the corridor. "Miss Dawes, do something! I think Clare's about to croak!"

Our English teacher rushed in and began prodding at me, a worried expression on her face. "Miss Edwards, are you alright? Breathe Clare...after me- in, out, in, out..."

My eyes drifted from Adam's pale face to Ms. Dawes, simulating a birthing ritual...the whole thing was so absurd I couldn't contain my laughter. As I burst into hysterics, they stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes- which only made me laugh harder. In truth, I was an emotional minefield- totally overstimulated- I couldn't control my feelings if my life depended on it.

"Maybe you should take a seat, Clare," Ms. Dawes suggested.

She guided me to a row of chairs abutting the wall outside Simpson's office. I fell into one of them, trying to quell my amusement. It was difficult- internally I felt scattered and chaotic.

"Relax Clare," Adam whispered. He threw an arm around my shoulders and tucked me up against him, his bulky vest bunching between us.

I sucked in a deep breath and looked at him. "Do you think it could be..." I trailed off, unable to hide the longing in my voice.

Adam shook his head. "I don't know," he breathed.

The door to Simpson's office flew open. "Miss Edwards, Mr. Torres." Tall and broad, Simpson looked down on us in approval. "If you will just come with me." He gestured towards his office, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I gripped Adam's hand. We rose as a unit and, holding onto each other, we moved forward. My heart was going off- a solid, rhythmic course- and I blinked back the saline that pricked at my eyes. I refused to let go of Adam, even as we slipped through the doorway. At this moment, we were one- nothing would divide us. _And if anyone tries, they'll pry him from my cold dead fingers... _

We sat down in a pair of chairs facing Simpson's desk. Our intertwined hands dangled between them- a loyal trapeze act- and Adam squeezed my palm as I pulled a shakey breath. The prinicpal took a seat in his large, leather chair, the same odd smile on his face.

Leaning back, he steepled his fingers. "I have some news."

I blinked as the room began to go all wonky. I felt as if I were floating out of my body, looking down at the meeting from above.

"And I thought you should be the first to know..."

He paused and I gritted my teeth. If Simpson didn't stop beating around the bush and tell us what the hell was going on I was going to drop kick his head! I glanced over at Adam- it seemed he held a similar sentiment- his expression was one of restrained irritation.

"There have been some developments regarding the disappearance of Mr. Goldsworthy," Simpson added, flicking a piece of lint off of his lapel.

That was it.

"Just tell us already, Simpson!" I bellowed.

His eyes grew wide with surprise and he cleared his throat. "Er, right...sorry," he stammered.

I growled and waved a hand for him to get on with it.

Placing his palms on the desk, Simpson leaned forward. "Clare...Adam...Eli is alive."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_"Ohh, I love when I wanna and use who I wanna, this skin that I'm growing feels scarily thin..."_

_Akinetic Mutism_.

For a girl like me, well-versed in Latin and its derivatives, as well as several 'big words'- as Adam liked to call them- hearing this come out of Simpson's mouth was like a sock to the stomach. All the air left my body and I stared- unhearing- as he detailed Eli's condition.

Akinetic.

Opposite of kinetic, of movement. Eli couldn't..._move_? I swallowed hard, trying to digest the information. Was Simpson telling us that Eli was paralyzed? I covered my mouth, unsure of whether I wanted to hear any more. The thought of Eli, bound to a wheelchair, made me want to cry. It was horrifying! How could he function, how would _we _function? Blinking, I tried to zero in on what my principal was saying. It was impossible- my thoughts were everywhere and it felt like my head had gone haywire. Glancing at Adam, I saw that he wore a grave expression and it made my stomach twist in knots. Turning back to Simpson, I caught the tail end of his last sentence.

"...they can't be sure. The symptoms at this point are similar to Akinetic Mutism."

I bit my lip. There it was again- _Akinetic Mutism_.

The torrent of saline came without warning and, before I knew it, tears were spilling down my cheeks. Mute. My Eli was _mute_...as in, unable to speak. The very idea was...it was...inconcievable! Eli being paralyzed was one thing but unable to articulate? His quick wit and verbal acuity were two of the things I loved most about him! Conversation was the cornerstone of our entire relationship. We would mock, tease, flirt...it was the way we connected- it was foreplay. I shivered as the low, dulcet tones of Eli's voice rolled through my head- the way he purred in my ear when we were intimate, the way he teased whenever I blushed at something he said, the way he snapped back with some snarky remark- the thought of that forever gone was too much for me to take.

Shaking my head, I refused to listen any longer. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, hoping to quell Simpson's droning diatribe. It didn't work- I still heard Simpson's muffled voice. Pulling my knees to my chest, I tried as best as I could to curl into a fetal ball.

"Clare."

I heard it- someone calling my name- and I refused to answer.

"Clare."

Again with the address. I buried my head in my knees- I would not respond.

"Clare!"

A pair of large hands wrenched my own away from my ears. My feet fell to the floor, boots thumping against the thick pile rug, but I kept my eyes shut tight and shook my head in defiance.

"Clare, listen to me!"

"_NO_!" I roared, swinging a clenched fist out in front of me. It connected with what I assumed was someone's eye- hollow socket and soft flesh crushed beneath speeding knuckles- and I heard a low groan from the impact.

A decidedly _male _groan.

_Uh-oh..._My eyes shot open as Simpson stumbled away, a hand over one eye. Adam had risen next to me and looked on in astonishment as our principal opened the door and yelled for someone to get him some ice.

"Holy Shit, Clare you just decked Principal Simpson!" he whispered.

I nibbled my lip in apprehension. "Mr. Simpson, I am _so sorry_! I don't-"

He held up his free hand. "It's alright, Clare," he said. "But I want you to do me a favor."

I raised my brows in question. I wasn't too sure I was going to like this.

"I want you to go down and see Ms. Sauve," Simpson continued. "She has all the information on Eli and...seeing that she's a woman, she can probably explain things a little better than I have."

Adam glanced at Simpson with furrowed brows. "What about me?"

"You stay here," he replied, grimacing as he prodded his swollen eye. "Ms. Sauve is only expecting Clare."

I nodded, appalled that I'd just jacked my principal in the face. Grabbing my bookbag, I rose from my seat and slowly made my way to the door. _What the hell is going on with me? I can't get ahold of myself lately! _

"Oh, and Clare..." Simpson spoke as I reached for the knob. I glanced over my shoulder- he was leaning against his desk looking a bit worse for wear. Rubbing a hand back and forth over his balding head, he gave me a pointed look. "When Ms. Sauve explains everything, I'd ask that you try not to assault her..."

A chuckle ripped from the back of my throat, countered by a loud sob. My feelings were unpredicatable- I had no control whatsoever- switching from amusement to sorrow at the drop of a hat. Even still, I nodded and slipped through the door, steeling myself for the coming tempest.

And a tempest it was. In fact, I felt a little like Prospero, conjuring waves of turmoil in an effort to lure others onto my island of misery. It was all a backlash, a raging squall resulting from the meeting with Ms. Sauve...a meeting that had left me more distraught than ever before.

According to the guidance counselor, Eli was conscious but he lingered in a vegetative state- aware but inactive. Akinetic Mutism was the result of severe injury to the frontal lobe, that section of the brain involved in motor function, problem solving, memory, language, judgement, and a number of other traits. Eli had suffered prolonged water exposure and the depleted oxygen levels affected his ability to function...at least, that's what the doctors assumed. But there was one problem with their theory: they had no evidence to back it up. All of Eli's scans had come up clear, leaving the medical staff positively gobsmacked. He'd recovered from hypothermia and a slight case of pneumonia- both a result of being in frigid waters for an extended period- but there was no reason for his current state of immobility.

Eli's condition, his...Akinetic Mutism could not be explained.

Apparently, Mr. Goldsworthy was hoping I might be able to help. That, seeing my face might help jaug Eli out of this mental prison. He wanted me to visit with his son as soon as possible. I'd nearly snorted when Ms. Sauve told me. Of course I was going to visit him! No one could keep me away- it was an inevitable reunion and I would not be deterred.

So it was, two days later, that I prepared to visit with Eli. Standing in front of a full length mirror, I wrung my hands in anticipation. I was worried what he would think of my new 'look'. Not that I expected a reaction- Sauve and Adam had been very clear that he was unresponsive to any sort of stimuli- but it didn't seem to matter. I still fretted like crazy.

_What if he wakes up? What if he takes one look at me and slips back into a coma?_

Frowning in consternation, I scanned my reflection for the umpteenth time. I had done my best to look like the 'old me'. I wore a conservative dress- pretty and floral- and my face was clean- no charcoal liner, no dark red lips- it was just Clare. My hair, a halo of jet black curls, bounced around my face with the slightest movement, and my nails were now a soft, bubble gum pink.

However, it did nothing to detract from my angled cheeks and sallow complexion.

Throwing my hands up, I heaved a sigh and made a grab for my bag. My mother had promised to take me to see Eli- she was probably waiting- so I hopped down the stairwell to find her. Rounding the switchback, I found my father looming in the foyer, whispering into the telephone.

"No, I can't see you tonight," he hissed. "My wife is starting to ask questions."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Tomorrow's no good either. It'll have to be Monday. I'll meet you at our usual place." He paused as the person on the other end of the line- a woman- responded. Her voice sounded pitchy and annoyed. "Of course I'm going to tell her!" he added, his voice strained. "But there are other issues. My daughter...she's not in the best place right now."

I clenched my fists as a swell of anger shot through me. My father was using me as an excuse with his mistress? Was that all I was anymore- a pawn for others to play with, to move around? I couldn't understand why everyone was so damn concerned with themselves- they were never considerate of other people's feelings. Stepping down behind him- the thick soles of my boots thudded against the wooden floor.

My father spun around, his eyes growing wide. "I'll have to call you back," he said, snapping the phone shut.

I crossed my arms in reproach and we stared at each other for a good minute. Words were unnecessary- everything I wanted to say was clear on my face. My father, on the other hand, had paled. In fact, he looked a bit green. I reveled in his discomfort. For once I wasn't the one feeling the brunt of the burden and it was nice to share the load.

"Clare, I..." he trailed off as my mother breezed into the foyer.

"Are you ready, honey?" she asked. Her eyes flitted over my attire and she beamed in approval. "Clare, you look lovely! I'm sure Eli is going to take one look at you and jump out of his seat!"

I knew she was trying to be reassuring but it did little to assauge my concern.

I gave her a wan smile. "Thanks mom," I said.

"You're welcome, sweetie!" she replied, looking positively gleeful. "Now let's get going." She turned to my father and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Back in a bit."

I shrugged into my coat, glaring at my father the whole time. He cowered under my steely gaze, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"I'm going to warm up the car, Clare!" My mother bounded out the front door, leaving me in the foyer with the detestable Willy Loman.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

I laughed- it was cold and bitter and it made my father cringe.

"Alright, fine," he added, when I didn't reply. "I'm sorry."

I snorted in disbelief. "For what, daddy? Pretending that you care about this family? Or is it for cheating on mom? Or maybe you're sorry for using me as an excuse." I slipped the last button on the front of my woolen coat through the hole. "Whatever it is, I don't care. But I _do _care about mom so you'd better find a way to tell her..." walking through the open door, I threw an angry look over my shoulder "...before _I _do."

The drive to the hospital was agonizing. I couldn't get the altercation with my father out of my head. How could this be happening? For Christ's sake, can't I get some sort of reprieve? I growled inwardly as the depth of circumstance bombarded me. It seemed that life had it out for Clare Edwards- I was a helpless dinghy being tossed about in a violent sea- there was no way to keep me from capsizing. Ultimately, I was going down.

My mother pulled up in front of the hospital's main entrance and placed a hand on my knee. "Do you want me to come in with you?" she asked.

I looked up at the large, white building. It was a hulking structure, almost intimidating, and I swallowed hard as I took it in. I'd been here once before...to visit Eli after his fight with Fitz. It was the day we finally came to terms with how we felt for one another. In light of the steamy kiss we'd shared, I damn sure didn't want my mother hanging around if Eli did 'wake up'.

"No, I'll be alright," I replied, opening the door.

"Okay, I'll pick you up in an hour."

I nodded and tromped across the sleet covered walkway. Scuffing my boots on a large rug in front of sliding, double doors, I entered the hospital and glanced around. A large, white information desk sat in the middle of the dove gray floor- a block of ice in a placid sea. I approached the kiosk and a pair of elderly women, complete with blue hair and glasses, looked at me.

"Can I help you?" The one to the left- plump and cheery- smiled up at me. She was dressed in a bright green polo, the hospital logo emblazoned on its breast. A name tag was pinned on the pocket of the shirt- it read "Nancy".

"I'm looking for a room, actually," I replied.

"Certainly," she chirped. "What's the patient name?"

"Elijah Goldsworthy."

I clasped my hands and looked down at my feet as she tapped at her keyboard, humming a soft tune under her breath.

"Ah yes, here we go," Nancy said, giving me a wide smile. "Elijah Goldsworthy, Room 333. That's the third floor, dear."

I nodded. "Thank you."

I reached the third floor in a matter of minutes. As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped out onto the glossy linoleum and my heart began to pound. Swallowing thickly, I nibbled on my lower lip as I whisked down the hall. The numbers next to each door were a little fuzzy and it was then that I realized- I was crying. Fat tears spilled down my face and I batted at them, trying to compose myself. I didn't want to look like a blubbering fool the first time I saw Eli. It was hard...all this time I'd dealt with not knowing, always speculating. The culmination of everything- my pain, Eli's vitality, my parents' marriage- it nearly sent me to my knees. Grabbing the wall beside me, I just managed to keep myself up. How would I get through this? What if he didn't...what if he wasn't... _Dammit, I can't break again!_

"Mer...er, Clare?" A deep voice rumbled behind me and I blinked, trying to recall where I'd heard it before.

"Are you alright?" A warm hand clasped my shoulder and I glanced behind me.

Dark green eyes peered back at me, brimming with raw emotion. Wide and worried, they scanned me inconspicuously. It sent me spinning- the similarity, the sheer affinity between this man and Eli- it was uncanny! The eye color was one thing but, it didn't stop there- the skin tone, the lanky build, the dark hair- tossled and clearly 'slept in'- it was almost too much.

I blinked in recognition- it was Eli's father. The last time I saw him it had been dark but, I knew...this was the man I had broken.

"Mr. Goldsworthy?" I whispered.

He swallowed hard. "That's right," he replied, looking a little uncomfortable. "Uh...thank you for coming."

I threw my shoulders back and stepped around him. "Of course I was coming," I sniffed. "Is he in here?" I gestured to the room beside us.

"Yes." His voice was low and a bit strained.

I heaved a sigh. "Look, I know our last meeting wasn't exactly civil, but..." I furrowed my brow, remembering that things had begun to improve between he and Eli "...I'm willing to forget everything if it'll help Eli."

He gave me a tiny smile. It was so much like his son's it made my heart clench.

"Me too," he whispered.

I couldn't help it- I smiled back at him. It was wry and a little forced but I needed this accord. I knew it would make things easier, help me get through this ordeal with less...obstruction.

Clearing his throat, he gestured to the room. "He's all yours."

Nodding, I peeked inside the hospital room and my heart leapt into my throat. I was seriously chewing on pericardium. Swallowing down my liquid excitement, I shot forward and couldn't keep a soft whimper from slipping out.

Six weeks.

Six _long _weeks.

Six _unbearable _weeks.

Such a lengthy period without Eli made seeing him now positively surreal. He was lying there, his bed folded in an upright position, and he stared straight ahead. The television was on and it looked like he might be watching but, as I got closer, I saw that his eyes were focused on the wall. He looked good, as per usual- his jade eyes glinted in the dim lighting and his hair, a bit shaggy from weeks of bed rest, framed his beautiful face.

The first thing I did was reach out and thread my fingers through his dark locks.

"Hi Eli," I whispered, sitting down on the bed beside him.

He did not respond. Hell, he didn't even blink. He just laid there, staring at nothing.

"I know it's been a while," I continued, refusing to let up. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know how to find you. But, now that I have, I promise I won't leave you again for long."

I leaned against him, tucking my head into his chest, wishing I could hear his beautiful voice. I had read about people in comas- according to specialists, they could hear you- that alone kept me talking. Even though this wasn't a coma, I still liked to think that he could hear me. So I babbled- told him everything that had gone on in the last few weeks- leaving out my downward spiral, of course. The last thing I wanted to do was make him worry...and I knew Eli- if he thought I was suffering, he'd worry. It was a viscious cycle, the way we connected. When one was off, the other couldn't function, and it made for a hell of a conflict.

I told him about Adam and promised that he'd be by to visit soon.

I told him that the whole school was pulling for him.

I told him everything I hoped and didn't fully believe because, as time ticked by and Eli didn't respond, I began to get more upset. And by the time my hour was over, I felt completely hollow. I wished there was something, anything, I could do to make him snap out of this...this...prison! Sitting up, I looked down at him in entreaty. Just one tick- a blink, a twitch of the lips, a heavy breath- please, God! Something!

But my prayer went unanswered.

Growling in anger, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. It was a last ditch effort that did nothing at all- Eli did not respond to my advance.

But I didn't care- I was beyond all logic.

Gripping his chin, I moved my mouth against his, trying to invoke the passion I always felt whenever our lips touched.

This was like kissing a dead fish.

Opening my eyes, blue met vacant green. I reared back, suddenly overcome with grief. Covering my mouth with one hand, I turned tail and fled out of the room, my purse and cost flying out behind me.

"Clare!" I heard Eli's father call out my name but I couldn't stop.

Scratch that- I refused to stop.

The air outside the hospital was frigid but I didn't care. I gripped my coat in one arm and bolted down the street, not bothering to see if my mother was waiting for me or not. I had to get away...before I completely lost it. Jagged breath after jagged breath, I jogged down a vacant roadway, uncertain of where I was going. Nothing looked familiar but, still, I pressed on.

Eventually, I made it to a street that bordered our school. Slowing down, I looked up at the academic bastille and wrinkled my nose. Funny how a place could be so inviting at one point in your life and sheer hell at another. I rolled my eyes and turned to head to The Dot when I caught a whiff of something.

A bonfire.

_The Ravine... _I lifted my brows and did a one-eighty, heading for the local hang out behind the school. I knew what I was getting myself into, knew who would be there, but I needed it...I needed to make someone feel as badly as I did, to make them suffer, to make them know void- that all crushing void that would not relent. It was bruising and conquering and only one thing would make it go.

_Exploit_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_"Shame like no other, there's blood in the water, this love has uncovered the dark side of me..."_

For so early on a Saturday, The Ravine was packed to the gills. Groups of kids were clustered throughout the wide, wooded area- some encircling flaming cans while others lounged before blazing campfires. From a distance, it looked like a bunch of vagrants, loitering in a junkyard. Broken down cars, ratty furniture, makeshift tents built from tarps and cinderblocks- it was nothing if not slipshod. Most of the kids were unfamiliar and I could tell they haled from the lower, social quota. Threaded jackets, ripped jeans, holey gloves- almost all of them looked like something out of a Charles Dickens novel. It was odd- the stark, organic landscape had an air of homelessness about it- a cold, forsaken taste that left my palette bitter. To the onlooker, The Ravine was an oxymoron- the beauty of nature thwarted by man's rough hands- but for me, it was kindred.

Slipping through an opening in the fence that bordered the back of of the school, I trudged across the wet, matted soil. I had one destination in mind: a shoddy lean-to located at the edge of the clearing. Three boys were huddled beneath it, arguing about something as they passed a bottle back and forth. My eyes zeroed in on the one in the center- still battered and a little sullen.

"This isn't good, man!" Michael was saying. "It would be better to just own up and get it over with!"

"I called it in. As far as I'm concerned, that's enough to make up for everything."

"Dammit, Fitz," the curly haired kid- Gabe, I think it was- hissed. "I do not want to go to jail for your fucking idiocy!"

I raised my brows. Clearly, this was one hell of a quarrel...but it did nothing to keep me from my purpose. I was resolved, determined, intent.

Fitz looked up as I neared their little fort, his mouth falling open. "_Clare_?" he whispered.

I vaguely registered the look of astonishment on his friends' faces.

"That's my name," I drawled, stopping a foot away.

He blinked and shook his head. "W-what are you doing here?" He fingered the bottle of rum in his hand, staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'd think that would be obvious," I replied, reaching for the bottle. "This is The Ravine- it's where kids come to party- and that's what I'm here to do."

I took a swig from the bottle and warm liquid ran down the back of my throat. It burned as it settled in my belly, a soft, subtle fire that warmed me all the way through. I hoped it would numb the pain- help me forget all that had, and _hadn't_, happened with Eli.

"Shouldn't you, um...be at the hospital?" he asked.

I choked as the rum went down the wrong tube. "H-how d-did you know a-about that?" I spluttered, wiping the excess liquid off the front of my coat.

Fitz looked away in discomfort, as did Michael and Gabe. "Everyone knows."

I frowned in confusion. "Okay...but why do you even care?" I demanded.

I was tired of this game, this constant merry-go-round that kept me spinning. Fitz was hiding something and I wanted to know what it was.

He looked at me for a moment. "I-"

"Holy Shit! Baby Edwards is back for more?"

I flinched as Bianca launched herself at me, throwing an arm around my shoulder with a bit too much gusto. She smelled of liquor and stale cigarettes- it seemed she had been here for quite a while. From the looks of it, she was feeling pretty good.

"This is my proto type, boys," she slurred with a wink. "Taught her everything I know."

"That's _protege_," I corrected.

"Ugh, don't _do _that!"

I furrowed my brows. "Do what?"

"Turn into a goddamn, walking dictionary!" she shot back, shaking her head. "Gives me a headache."

I smirked and took another sip from the bottle in my hand. "Excuse me for having a brain, Bianca," I replied, wiping my mouth.

She snorted and threw herself down on a broken chair next to Fitz's little clubhouse. She bent sideways to sock Michael in the arm and he gave her a tiny, albeit forced, smile. Bianca seemed lost on his discomfort but I wasn't fooled for a second. Shifting my weight, I wondered why Michael, and Gabe for that matter, seemed so...down all the time. They'd been arguing with Fitz about something, something that involved possible jail time. It was obvious they'd all participated in some kind of criminal act. _I wonder what it could be..._

"Well, are you staying or what?" Bianca's rough voice cut through my pondering and I glanced down at her. She was leaning forward, a pointed look on her face.

Confused, I nodded. "That was the plan..."

"Then take a load off, dude," she commanded. "Looking up at you is making my head spin!"

I couldn't help it- I barked a laugh. There was something about Bianca- she was just so unconcerned. I envied that. I'd give anything not to worry about the feelings of others. Rolling my eyes, I snorted inwardly. _I guess Eli was right all along...I really do care what other people think. _It was true- I had always allowed my concern for other people's feelings drive my choices. It seemed ludicrous now, that I had gone to all that trouble, that I had wasted all that time and energy _caring_. Because, in the end, no one cared about me. Shaking my head, I took another swig from the bottle before sitting down on a ratty, old blanket and passing the rum back to Fitz.

He took it from me with a worried frown. "Seriously Clare, why are you here? I'd of thought you'd be ecstatic, what with..." he paused to swallow hard, "Eli being back and all."

"No shit?" Bianca bellowed. "Goth boy's okay?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I thought you said everyone knew, Fitz."

All three boys looked away with guilty expressions. _What in the hell is going on here?_

"Wait, you know what happened to the freak, Fitz?" Bianca slurred.

I glared at her but she was so wasted, she didn't even notice.

Cracking his knuckles, Fitz shrugged. "I heard what happened to him, yeah."

Bianca lifted her hands in question. "Well," she pressed, "aren't you going to tell us?"

He shot a glance in my direction and ran a hand through his hair. "Clare can tell you."

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. "_No_."

"Aw, come on Edwards!" Bianca prodded. I could hear her bouncing up and down on the chair- the springs creaking with her movement.

"I don't want to talk about it," I growled.

Everyone went quiet and I cracked a lid. They were looking at me in morbid curiosity. Well, everyone but Fitz. He was looking at me with compassion.

"He still hasn't woken up then?" he asked.

Gritting my teeth, I grunted. "Nope."

"What, what, what?" Bianca was practically quaking, she was so enthused.

I sneered in disgust. _Like a drunken Dalmation in heat... _

Heaving a sigh, Fitz looked at her. "They found Eli two days after he went missing," he began, gazing down at his boots for a moment. When he looked back up, he seemed more uncomfortable than before. "He washed up on the banks of the Lower Don, not far from where those fishermen found his jacket. He was hypothermic but alive. They took him to a hospital on the other side of town because they couldn't immediately identify him. His wallet had washed away and-"

"Wait a minute," I cut in, sitting up. "How do you know all of this?"

"Read it in the paper," he snapped back without thought.

I frowned. "But Simpson said they hadn't released any information to the press. The police aren't sure whether it was an attempt at foul play or not."

"_Foul play_?" Michael piped up, his face pale. "Why would they think that?"

"Yeah, the kid was obsessed with death," Bianca chimed in with a snort. "Is it really so hard to believe that he jumped in the riv-"

"Shut up, bitch!" Gabe roared, making light of my own inner fury. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to be as angry as I was that moment but, clearly, I was wrong.

Shoving up off the ground, Gabe pivoted around the encampment and stormed into the woods. Michael sighed and palmed his face- he, too, looked quite distressed.

"I'll go talk to him," Fitz muttered. He rose, brushing a bit of snow from the front of his dark sweater, and followed Gabe into a thick copse of trees.

"Jesus, I was only kidding," Bianca murmured.

"Just quit while you're ahead, alright B?" Michael said, waving a hand in frustration.

I gaped at him in surprise- it seemed Bianca's charms ended at the back of Owen's van.

Sniffng, she lifted her chin. "You guys are a total drag," she slurred. "I'm outta' here."

With that, she rose from her seat and stumbled off. Blowing out a heavy breath, I shook my head in cold amusement. It never failed- as soon as Clare Edwards came on the scene- everything was shot to hell. I looked up at Michael and saw him watching me in guarded curiosity.

"What?" I snapped, grabbing the bottle out of his hand in irritation. He flinched and I shot him a rueful look. "Sorry, I'm just a little..._edgy _today."

His eyes flickered towards the bottle in my hand. "I can see that."

I lifted a brow and took a sip of the spicey rum. "What's with the moody mug?" I asked.

He looked confused. "Huh?"

"The long face, Michael."

He shifted in his seat. "I don't know what you mean..."

"Hmmm..." I said, scratching my chin in forethought. "Well, ever since Fitz morphed into my personal body guard, you and the Angel Gabriel," I stubbed a thumb over my shoulder towards the woods," have been acting like a couple of bi-polar buddies."

He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. "Don't try to deny it. I've seen you looking at me, Michael."

Looking away, he bit his thumbnail. "So what?" he replied. "You're pretty."

I snorted in disbelief. "Gee, if that's the emotional response I get for being pretty I might as well kill myself right now. Pardon me while I go throw myself off a cliff..."

Michael gasped in astonishment and stared at me with wide eyes. "W-what? Why did you say that?" He launched himself at me, pulling me up by the front of my coat. "What the hell are you playing at, little girl?"

I blinked up at him in fear. "N-nothing...I don't uderstand what you mean..."

His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and he glared at me for a full minute before dropping me to the ground. Sitting back on his haunches, he breathed in and out in steady succession. I swallowed hard, totally thrown by his bizarre behavior. We sat there like that- silent and contemplative- for a long while. Only the sounds of the jumping flames and kids milling around nearby could be heard. Our thoughts were thick- almost tangible- as if a wordless conversation was going on between us...until, finally, Michael spoke.

"Fitz's dad split when he was just two."

My mouth fell open. _Huh? What the hell is he talking about?_

"I bet you didn't know that, did you?" he continued, oblivious to my befuddlement.

"Er..."

"And I'll bet you didn't know that his mother's been in and out of rehab for the last couple of years," he added. "She's got a bit of a methamphetamine problem. It's the reason Fitz is a strictly booze and smoke kind of guy- doesn't want to fall into the same trap as his old lady."

Nibbling my lip, I tried to figure out where he was going with this. Michael looked at me- sharp and distinct- as if he wre trying to communicate something.

"He likes you a lot, has since before you were with Eli."

I looked at the ratty blanket under me. "I know..." I whispered.

"Why are you here, Clare?"

My head snapped back towards him and I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Look, we may be a little slow in the academic world but, when it comes to mastering turmoil, we're head a' the class," he stated, crossing his arms. "I'm not about to let my friend be exploited by a wolf in sheep's clothing."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Don't give me that crap, Edwards," he spat. "It's like a high- using us to forget the pain, to numb it. But we're people, just like you...not your personal brand of novocaine."

"I'm not using you." It didn't matter if he was right- I wasn't about to admit to anything. Owning up to it would make it real and, right now, I preferred to leave it in the shadows.

"Yes you are. Fitz is too far gone to see it- he can't think badly of you, he likes you too damn much."

Chagrined, I sat up- practically eye to eye with Michael. "Look," I began, annoyed by his ability to see right through me, "the only thing I'm using around here is the alcohol."

"Bullshit," he countered.

My face clouded over in anger. "How convenient, Michael," I snarled. "The conversation turns from you to me in less than ten. _Bravo_!"

"I didn't change-"

"Yes you did. Is there a purpose to all of this?" I raised my brows in challenge.

He looked down at the ground. "I was only trying to stress that Fitz has had a hard life."

I threw up my hands. "But _WHY_? Why would I need to know that? Why would it matter?" Thrusting myself up off the ground, I looked up at the sky and shrieked. "What aren't you all telling me?"

Michael stared at me in awe. "I don't know-"

"That's _CRAP_!" I exploded. The anger moved through me like a cyclone, spiraling up and out, destroying all with its violent fury.

Michael shot onto his knees and grabbed my wrists. He gazed at me with the same grave expression but there was something else there, too...pleading. "Are...are you...willing to listen to me, Clare?" he rasped.

I opened and closed my mouth, floored by the sudden turn of events, and the agony in his voice. "Y-yes...I...I think so..."

Michael bent forward, burying his head against my stomach. I inhaled sharply- the intimacy of such an act was clear but...there was something different about this. It was almost as if he were begging me for mercy.

"I don't think I can take this any longer," he mumbled against the fabric of my coat. "I need, no...I _long _for someone to know my secret." Looking up at me, I gasped when I saw that he was crying. "And you're really the best person to hear what I have to say."

The grief was coming off of him in waves. It affected me in the worst possible way- a small sob ripped out of me and I covered my face with my hands.

Standing, he pulled me against his chest. "Please don't cry, Edwards," he whispered. "I'm begging you."

But it was a lost cause. I was done and the tears flowed out of me like a raging squall. I was leaking, bleeding, and my emotion stained the snow covered ground with its tainted, black fluid. It was odd, baring my broken soul to a practical stranger...but it couldn't be stymied. The dam had cracked and I was spilling over with sorrow.

"Clare."

I sobbed.

"Clare, _please_..."

Michael's hoarse whisper was comforting, somehow. I assumed it was our tandem misery. Pulling a deep breath, I managed to compose myself slightly.

"The gulley, Clare..."

I sniffed, looking up at him with watery eyes. "What?" I whimpered.

"The gulley..." He let me go and backed away slowly. "Meet me there in twenty minutes."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_"I can lie to myself, I can lie to myself, I can be who you want me to be..."_

Confused, I watched Michael disappear into the forest, his dark figure blending with the shadowy treeline. He was headed for the rear of the property- his stride firm and purposeful. I blinked in recognition- from what I could recall, only one thing bordered the back side of The Ravine.

_"The gulley, Clare...meet me there in twenty minutes..." _

I swallowed hard. _The gulley? Why did Michael want me to meet him there? _Rubbing my bleary eyes, I tried to gather my thoughts. I wasn't sure what to think of this new twist. Michael's odd reaction to my anger threw me for a loop- he seemed so contrite, so remorseful- it was completely unnerving.

Swaying slightly, I looked down at the bottle in my hand. The rum was coursing through me, dulling my senses. It was a welcome feeling. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster- from the run-in with my father to my visit with Eli- it was chock full of dips and turns.

And I hated it, hated feeling so out of control, so rattled...

"Clare." I jumped at the sound of Fitz's voice.

Turning, I observed two shapes coming towards me- one tall and brusque, the other stocky, with a head full of wild curls. Fitz and Gabe- I could barely make out their faces- the sun had descended below the thick canopy and only the light of scattered campfires lit the dusky space.

"Where's Michael?" Gabe asked as they pulled up beside me. He wouldn't meet my eyes, only shifted back and forth on his feet, a guilty look on his face. Briefly, I mulled over his earlier reaction. What had set him off like that? It was just Eli...his quote on quote nemesis. Why would he care if Bianca spoke poorly of him?

"Edwards?" I looked up- both of them were gazing at me in question.

"Oh, um, he took a walk," I hedged, shrugging for effect. I wasn't sure why but, I had a feeling Michael wouldn't appreciate me ratting him out to his friends.

"Probably off somewhere with Bianca," Fitz sneered.

"D'you see which way he went?" Gabe asked, finally meeting my gaze.

"I think he went that way..." I pointed in a direction opposite the gulley.

He nodded and took off. "I'm going to find him," he mumbled. "Later."

"Bye," I rejoined, staggering sideways as I took another pull from the long neck in my hand.

Grabbing the bottle, Fitz smirked. "I'll take that," he drawled, holding it out of my reach, "you've had enough."

Waving a hand, I scoffed. "A bodyguard _and _a pain in the ass? What did I do to deserve this?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "You've changed, Edwards."

My cheeks bloomed with heat and I growled. "No I haven't!" I was not about to suffer through another psychological analysis- especially at the hands of Fitz.

He looked down at me, a shrewd expression on his face. "Oh no?" he shot back. "Then what's _this_?" Reaching out, Fitz tugged at my dark locks. I tried to shrug away from him but, before I could, he pulled open the front of my coat. "And this..." His voice trailed and his eyes widened when he saw what I was wearing. "You...why are you wearing _that_?"

Wrenching away from him, I hugged my chest to ward off the bitter chill. "Why wouldn't I?"

He barked a cold laugh. "Because it's not who you are anymore, Edwards."

I opened my mouth to protest but, before I could, Fitz took a step forward and threaded his hand through my hair. It was an intimate gesture- something Eli used to do before he kissed me- and I whimpered at the memory. Unfortunately, the small sound had an adverse effect on the boy in front of me and he closed the distance between us. I stiffened as he bent down to whisper in my ear.

"I know what you're going through, Clare...life's a bitch and you're sick of pretending it's coming up roses, sick of being that angelic, little girl," he breathed, lips tickling my earlobe, "that sweet, fresh faced babe that all the little narks look up to. You want to be bad, to give over to things you never thought possible."

His other hand snaked its way under my coat and I inhaled sharply as he gripped my waist. "I'm sure you know how I feel about you Clare...I'm willing to show you, to give you what you need. Stop trying to live up to an old rep- give into temptation, give into _me_- it can be rewarding," he nuzzled his face against my cheek, "I promise..."

My heart was beating so loudly, it echoed in my ears. I was brutally aware of Fitz's intentions- it was clear he wanted me to become this girl, this fantasy he'd built up in his mind. The odd part? I was actually considering it. I needed respite and my boyfriend, locked away in his own body, could not give me that, he could not give me the release I so desperately craved. _Maybe...maybe Fitz can..._

Tilting my face up with a finger, he gazed at my lips in anticipation. "Come on Clare, why lie to yourself?" He began to lean forward, his breath hot on my face, and I felt the familiar stirring in my gut- the sensation that signaled deferment, that confirmed that exigent, mindless vortex.

"Why lie to Eli?"

As the name played over his lips, it reverberated through the hollow night, clenching my heart with its potent timbre. Time seemed to stop for a moment and, during that brief interlude, a truculent heat began to build inside of me. I blinked as I realized what it was...

_Adrenaline_.

It shot through me like a bullet, exploding violently once it entered my hands. Fitz's solid form stumbled backwards and he grunted in surprise. Eyes as wide as saucers, I covered my mouth with a hand and backed away. I'd shoved him- _hard_. But he'd had it coming! Fitz knew exactly what he was doing and it was clear he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

And that really pissed me off.

Glaring up at him in fury, a dire breath- something akin to a mottled scream- ripped loose from the darkest part of me. "Go fuck yourself, Fitz!"

Bolting into the forest, I followed the same path that Michael had taken. It was dark as hell- I could barely see as I dodged a number of trees and barreled through the underbrush. Fitz called out behind me but, the further away I got, the safer I felt. I couldn't believe I had nearly kissed him! I had almost given over to...to..._that_. How could I be such a bitch? Eli was lying in the hospital and here I was, fooling around with Fitz behind his back. It didn't matter that I hadn't kissed him- I had considered it and that was more than enough to pin a Scarlet A to my aching breast.

Tears fell in a torrent and I sobbed as my regret became tangible. It was amazing, the way the body could manifest feeling, the way it would cleanse the soul with tears, baptise with utter sorrow. I stumbled through the forest without seeing, giving into anguish, letting the problem materialize. I was angry with Fitz but it didn't change the fact that he was right. For six long weeks I had floundered, questioned who I was. I had tried to forget the pain by delving into the underworld. Instead of facing my problems, I'd run from them- buried them beneath a load of bullshit. That's all it was- bullshit...excuse after excuse, piled on top of each other.

But excuses never helped anyone- they only buried you under a pile of emotional rubble.

I stopped in the middle of a tiny clearing and sank to my knees. Bending forward, I watered the snow covered ground with briny grief. I had cried before but it was never anything like this. Everything in my life- Eli, school, my father, Adam, Fitz, Owen, Michael, Gabe, and last but certainly not least, God- it all came to a head, exploding like a rogue firecracker. I fell onto my side, curling into a fetal ball, and allowed it to consume me...to take me over. As I sank to the bottom of an ocean of misery, a small whisper began to cycle through my head.

_"You have to acknowledge the problem if you want to destroy it, Clare- it has to be faced...head on..."_

It was in that moment, in that dark, sordid place, that I finally understood what Eli meant when he told me that. Looking up, I noticed a small beam of moonlight peaking through a part in the grove above me. I hadn't noticed it before but, now, it seemed so stellar, so bright- I was amazed by its lunar brilliance. A full moon...I'd forgotten it was tonight.

Biting my lip, I swallowed hard. For so long now, I had seen Eli as my moon- he controlled my tides- made me high and low, affected me in ways that others couldn't. As I stared at the sky, the broad, gold dial seemed to hover right over me. Funny how, in my darkest moment, the light seemed so much brighter- so much more clear. Sitting up, I opened and closed my mouth in astonhishment- _Eli _seemed so much brighter.

"Eli?" I spoke out loud. My voice sounded so small, so defeated. "Is that...are you here?"

I squeaked as the sound of rushing water filled the vacant space. My head snapped towards the sound and I wrinkled my brow.

"Where did that come from?" I was shocked by the volume of the noisy water.

_The gulley..._Pushing up off the ground, I sped towards the snaking crevice in a frenzy. Something was telling me to get there, to get to Michael. Batting branches out of my way, twiggy fingers grabbed at the fabric of my coat and I fought to extricate myself from nature's unyielding grasp. The gulley was close by- I could hear it. Although it did not have a natural water source, freak rainstorms leading up to the blizzard had filled it up and the melting snow had likely added to the rising water levels.

Untangling my coat, I escaped the twig from hell and hurried off to the gulley. As the treeline ebbed, craggy rock opened up before me and I gasped at the sight. It was beautiful- the channel cut through the rock, solid formations stacked on either side, and it plunged into darkness below. I could hear the raging water, spilling over stone and echoing into the night. Michael stood next to the edge, looking down into the culvert.

"Michael?" I tried to speak above the roar of the water.

He threw a look over his shoulder. "Come here, Clare."

I furrowed my brows and took a hesitant step forward. "What...what are you doing?" I asked.

He turned away from the edge, his face somber. "I'm here to show you why I feel so horrible all the time." Pivoting slightly, he pointed to the gulley behind him. "Have a look."

Nibbling my lower lip, I moved forward to peer over the edge. I looked down into the ravine. It was dark but I could still make out the swirling rapids- a vortex of downey liquid. Again, it was beautiful...but deadly.

"Do you know what that is?" he whispered, his voice strained.

Glancing up at him, my mouth fell open in shock. Tears were streaming down Michael's face and he gazed at me in such desperation it made me tremble with pity.

Reaching out to him, I cupped his face with my hands. "Please tell me what's wrong," I whispered. I knew I had no right to act the priest but, then again, who was I to deny another person his dues?

Michael's eyes dropped and he stared at the ground. "You won't like what I have to say," he admitted. "In fact, when I'm done, you're going to hate me."

I frowned. What on earth was he talking about? What could possibly make me hate him? I'd never hated anyone in... My thoughts stalled as Adam's face loomed in front of me and something he once said snapped to the forefront of my mind.

_"Okay, but if he does I think you should consider informing the police."_

"And tell them what? That Adam Torres thinks Fitz...offed Eli for me?"

_Oh my God... _Slack jawed, I stared at Michael in speculation. My heart was racing and my thoughts were jumbled. Turning away, I pulled deep, even breaths, trying to get a grip on myself, but everything began to hit me at once: Michael and Gabe- grave and miserable; Fitz willing to do whatever it took to get ahold of me; their knowledge about Eli's disappearance- details regarding his discovery, things the police had never released; Gabe's anger at Bianca; Fitz's clouded misery and subsequent contempt...

My face twisted in distress. When I'd come out to The Ravine the three of them had been arguing about something- something that could land them in jail. Fitz mentioned calling 'it' in. I remembered Ms. Sauve telling me that an anonymous tip led to Eli's identification at the hospital. Someone who knew to look for him, knew to look for a possible drowning victim, had notified the police. I peered down into the gulley, my mind going ninety miles per hour. It was a tributary, a channel that flowed into the Don River.

Looking up at Michael, a sob escaped me. "_Eli_..." I cried, covering my mouth with both hands.

He grabbed my shoulders. "Please Clare, you have to know...it was an accident. We never meant for it to go that far, we-"

"You fucking _traitor_!"

A loud voice split the sky and a robust body slammed into Michael from behind. His eyes widened with fear as he stumbled and his thin, pink lips formed a perfect 'o'. I screamed in horror as Michael tumbled backwards...

Right over the edge of the culvert.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_"I can make myself feel what I want to believe, I am free, I am free, I am free..."_

In the short course of my life, I had been truly frightened only twice- and both occassions centered around another person- specfically, my sister Darcy. Like me, Darcy started out a pure, innocent, little girl- leave it to Degrassi to change that. Her transformation had taken place when I was twelve...and ended out in front of our house, with an online predator named Adams. I can still remember the way my heart raced, the way my hands shook when I dialed the police, hoping against hope that they would make it there before he did anything to hurt my sister.

That was the first time fear had taunted me.

The second was when Darcy tried to kill herself. This particular event had been extremely traumatic. It was a blend, a combination of fear and distress. I feared that my sister would try to harm herself, that there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I mourned the loss of the girl I'd known- the chaste, protective older sister that had always looked after me.

But here, now, both of those memories paled in comparison to what I faced. Backing away, I stumbled over rock, eyes darting between Michael, dangling off the side of the gulley- pale and desperate and grabbing at air- and Gabe, advancing on me in measured calculation.

"_Gabe_." I stressed his name, hoping to get through to him. "Gabe, _please_..."

He did not answer, he simply moved toward me, his gait slow and deliberate. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glanced at Michael. He was fighting as hard as he could to stay up but, I knew if no one helped him, he would suffer the same fate as Eli. It could be considered just retribution, karma for past actions but, something inside me pushed the idea away. Michael had been willing to confess, to spill his secrets...and it was damn admirable. In retrospect, I could see that forgiveness was a powerful thing- if given the chance, I would pull him up and out- I would show him that he was worthy of redemption.

Of course, this meant I would have to survive...

Stopping in front of me, Gabe leveled his gaze with mine. "So now you know the truth," he said, tone low and even. "Honestly, I'm glad. I've been dealing with this shit for so long, I don't think I could have taken much more of it."

I bit my lip and my eyes flickered towards Michael. "Gabe..." I pointed to the struggling boy. "You have to help him."

"I don't have to do anything, Edwards," he hissed, throwing a dark look over his shoulder. "We all made a pact- no one would ever find out what we did and we could get on with our lives."

"_Get on with your lives_?" I countered, shaking my head. "You were miserable! For Christ's sake, you just went off on Bianca!"

"So?"

"So you're obviously unhappy!" I fired back. "Telling someone will help, Gabe...it will clear your conscience."

"Clear conscience and a jail cell," he mocked, tapping his chin with a finger, "how..._tempting_."

I narrowed my eyes. "Telling the truth is better than wallowing in misery."

"And you speak from personal experience?" he shot back.

I winced and Gabe lifted his chin, looking smug. "That's what I thought. Understand this Edwards...I _will not _go to jail."

Clenching my fists, I glared at him. "So that's what this is all about?" I snapped. "Saving your own skin?"

His face clouded over with contempt. "It's not just about me," he rejoined.

"Right, let's not forget Fitz," I shot back, rolling my eyes. "Are you really so obtuse that you can't see that you've ruined lives? My boyfriend is in a...a...conscious coma! Adam's a total wreck, as is Eli's father, and-"

"_You_?" he cut in, lifting a brow.

I lowered my eyes, trying to control my raging emotions. "I'm a basket case," I admitted. "But it doesn't matter, none of it. All that matters now is not letting what happened to Eli happen to your friend."

"He broke his promise." It was curt and unfeeling and made something inside of me snap.

"So _WHAT_!" I bellowed, throwing my hands up.

Gabe gripped the front of my coat and pulled me forward. "So he deserves what he gets," he snarled. Lugging me towards the edge of the culvert, he grunted as I tried to fight him off. "It's no use, Clare...this was ordained the minute you figured out our little secret. I can't have you telling the police and, clearly, Michael can't keep his mouth shut. It's really better this way..."

I did everything I could to hinder his process- fought, clawed, even went completely limp. I'd heard dead weight was harder to move but Gabe had no issue whatsoever- as soon as I stopped fighting, he picked me up in his arms and carried me right to the side of the gulley.

"_NO_!" I screamed, grasping the front of his cordorouy coat with all my strength.

"Don't fight it, Clare..."

"Gabe!" Michael's broken voice rasped below us and he clawed at the ground in front of him, kicking his feet against the wall. "Don't...don't d-do this!"

"Oh, that's rich," he spat, "a plea coming from Benedict Arnold."

"P-please, man," Michael begged. "She won't tell- you won't go to j-jail- Rosalyn will be fine!"

I frowned in confusion. _Rosalyn?_

"Fuck you, Michael! Everyone knows that Clare Edwards is a stuck up little prude who would nark on her own sister!"

I gasped as a roaring anger shot through me. Who the hell did he think he was, judging me like that? Did he think I was that transparent, that I was that easy to figure out? I'd never judged him or his little crew, I had never stereotyped them the way he was doing now!

_Yes you did... _

I blinked as a small voice countered my internal tirade. It was low and almost inaudible, but I still heard it.

_You judged Fitz and his friends- thought of them as head thumping neandrathals, considered them lower than you on a broad, social scale. Hell, you even used Fitz to quash the pain...you never actually cared about him. You always considered yourself the one in control and now look where it's gotten you._

No I hadn't! I didn't really think of Fitz that way! It was how the school operated, how it jived...and hanging out with them was more about distraction than actual control. I just needed something to help me...

_Ignore who you are...who you are meant to become. _The tiny voice cut in. My gut clenched- it was a low pur and sounded very familiar..._too _familiar.

Lifting my chin, I huffed. I was not ignoring who I was! I was just trying to quell the constant ache, fill the painful void...

_Did you ever consider the idea that the 'ache' can be productive? Instead of using your recent woes as a catalyst for something positive, you wallow in self-pity. You allow assumption to drive your entire life- you give over to circumstance and that is why void has become the cornerstone of your existence. Trying to fill it up with chaos won't do anything at all- it will just add to your misery._

Sighing, I tried to snuff out the voice by focusing on Gabe and Michael's argument. They seemed to be at an impasse- bickering over my fate- and I strained to concentrate. But, as hard as I tried, I could not keep my thoughts from circling back to that familiar tone. It sounded so much like...no, it couldn't be. Eli was in the hospital, he was in a coma! I was hearing things...going mad in the face of possible death. Besides, what the voice was telling me was confusing- what was I supposed to do, go back to being the old Clare- the strict, uptight prude who'd rat out her own family?

_But is that who you really are? _

I flinched as the low timbre broke in once more.

_Or is that something that Fitz's friends, that KC and the rest of the school, believe? THINK, Clare...deep down, are you really a strict, uptight prude who sees everyone else as sinful and immoral? If you are, how could you fall in love with a boy labeled a social pariah? How could you befriend a person who is transgendered? Are you really a goody two shoes...or are you the voice of reason?_

My mouth opened and closed in astonishment. The voice, it was starting to make sense.

_Being reasonable is NOT being prissy, it is simply a way to show others you care, to show them how much you love them. But if you BELIEVE that what others say about you is true, if you believe that you are a goody goody who flits about judging others, then you are...you give into the label and, in turn, give others power over you. Once you believe something, Clare, you _become_ it. _

I swallowed hard. Had I begun to believe what the throng was telling me? Over the past few weeks, I had seen myself differently- set myself apart from the rest. I had begun to point fingers at God, considered the idea that my faith was in vain, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized...I was building from an image, an 'appearance' cultivated by others. I had questioned who I was- but not who I really was- I had questioned the Clare Edwards that everyone else thought they knew, I had questioned the Saint.

_And by questioning the Saint, you inadvertently become it. _

The voice was right- I believed I was the Saint, the 'image' that others forced on me. Losing Eli had hurled me into oblivion- I had relinquished the hold on my life and given it to the outside world. I thought by escaping the label, the Sainthood, I might not feel so vacant all the time.

But I wasn't a Saint. I was Clare- a girl who believed that everyone deserved a shot, a girl who knew that, above all, love was the reason for existence. I had morals and loved order, but I never tried to force them on other people. I merely tried to model my behavior after my beliefs in an effort to show others a different way of life. I respected all people, regardless of their choices, and I loved them without thought or pretense.

Looking up at Gabe, I flushed at my quandary- these past few weeks I had begun to believe in his label, too...and Fitz's, for that matter.

"You're smarter than this!"

Michael's voice rang through my fuzzy consiousness and I glanced down at him in bewilderment. He was clinging to the roots of a small plant snaking through a crack in the rock, a frightened expression on his face. As our eyes locked, something occurred to me- I knew why he'd told me what he had about Fitz.

_Motivation_... All this time I'd refused to look past the image- I had seen Fitz as everyone else saw him- the ape who busted skulls and couldn't put two sentences together. But now I knew it wasn't really who he was- there was more to him than met the eye- there was more to everyone than met the eye. Blinking in astonishment, I recognized that Fitz had done the same thing I had. He had given into social order, he believed what everyone else said he was. It was an easy thing to do, especially when your life was filled with darkness. And Michael had given me the details of Fitz's home life- it was dim and lonely and there was no one there to ground him, to tell him he was more than just an ignorant bully.

There was no one there to love him.

_And when your life is devoid of love, the need for it can overshadow everything else._

I frowned in confusion but before the little voice could explain, another pair of hands grabbed me around the shoulders. Flinching, I looked up into the very face I had just been thinking about. Fitz was furious and he had a hold of the front of my coat, struggling to pry me from Gabe's arms.

"Let her go!" he shouted, pulling at me roughly.

"No fucking way!" Gabe snarled, trying to move closer to the edge. "She knows about Eli, man- Michael told her everything!"

"I don't care anymore!" Fitz roared. "We need to end this..."

"And that's just what I'm about to do," Gabe shot back, pushing against his friend's hold.

"Gabe," Fitz stressed, blocking us from the edge. "You didn't want to hurt Eli...why on earth would you want to hurt Clare?"

Gabe's head snapped up- he wore an angry expression. "You're right," he hissed. "I didn't want to hurt Goldsworthy. _You _were the one who pulled him out here, _you _were the one who planned it all!" he glanced down at me in disgust. "All because of _her_. This entire thing is your fault!"

"Dont you think I know that?" Fitz cried. "I think about if every goddamn day! I tip between craving a fucking girl and regreting what I did to her boyfriend! I have to bite my tongue from telling her what happened. I have to fight to keep from sinking to my knees and begging her forgiveness, begging _your _forgiveness!"

The low, beseeching tone in his voice made my heart flip and a single thought shot to the forefront of my mind. _When your life is devoid of love, the need for it can overshadow everything else. _I got it- _I _was that love. Fitz had seen me and all else had paled in comparison. Everything he had done was for me and, although his rationale had gone by the wayside, I knew now that his intentions stemmed from love, from the need to _be _loved. I looked up at him. He had gone still- they both had- and they gazed at each other in silence, a wordless conversation passing back and forth between them. It was odd- I hung between two men- both anguised from what they had done to my boyfriend. Irony wasn't quite the word...

Fitz finally broke the silence. "Please, Gabe, let her go," he whispered.

Glancing down at me, Gabe met my eyes. His- large and dark- were full of thought and I wondered whether he might consider setting me down. He seemed to be struggling with it, with the notion of hurting another human being. I surmised that Gabe might snap completely if he went through with his half-cocked idea. An accident was just that...but premeditated action was another thing all together.

"I won't go to jail for her, Fitz," Gabe growled, a cold sneer spreading over his face. "I can't leave my sister alone with my stepfather...he'll hurt her! I won't do it!"

He twisted sideways, ripping me out of Fitz's hands and I screamed in horror as he flung me out towards the gulley. Fitz managed to wrap his arms around Gabe from behind and tugged backwards. We toppled away from the edge, slamming down onto the ground and I rolled out of Gabe's arms as we hit the rock, hissing when my elbow shredded against coarse stone.

"Clare!" Michael cried out, his voice strained with fatigue.

I scrambled forward but Gabe caught ahold of my foot before I could get to the edge. I went down hard, my hands skinning against the gritty terrain.

"Goddamn it, Gabe," Fitz hissed, clawing at the other boy's arm. "Stop this! You're acting like a lunatic!"

Gabe grunted as Fitz punched him in the face. He let go of my foot as they began to fight and I crawled over to Michael. His arms were shaking from the effort of holding his body up for so long.

"I need to get a hold of your pants!" I cried, sliding to the edge of the culvert.

"_What_?" he choked out.

"If we use our hands we rely on my strength alone to pull you out," I explained, lifting the hem of his shirt. "But if you pull yourself along while I tug you up by your jeans, we combine our strength."

Michael chuckled lightly. "Thank God I got the gifted girl to save me!"

I barked a small laugh and grabbed a hold of the waistline of his pants. Together, we pulled his body upwards- Michael prattling along with his hands and me thrusting up on his jeans. We were making slow progress but, eventually, he managed to get his hips over the ledge. I gave him one last pull and he winced.

"Take it easy," he muttered, "you're giving me a wedgie!"

"This is no time to joke, Michael!" I reproved, shaking from the adrenaline as I watched him make the final push over the edge. Crawling forward, he pulled his knees to his chest and blew out a shakey breath.

Looking up at me, he sniffled in relief. "I know I didn't deserve it," he whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek, "but thank you for saving my life, Clare."

Moved, I squatted down in front of him. "Everyone deserves forgiveness, Michael."

I gasped as he pulled me forward and wrapped his long arms around my neck. His breathing was ragged and I heard a small whimper slip out of him. It sounded a lot like "I'm so sorry." In that moment, leaning into the man who had been involved with my boyfriend's accident, I felt the one thing I'd been missing these last six weeks- satiated. For the first time, a smile- a real, honest to goodness smile- tugged at my lips.

"Christ, I fucking hate you!" Gabe's voice echoed through the hollow space, killing the moment.

We sat back, watching as he pummeled Fitz's head. "All you ever think about is yourself!" He puffed as his hands drilled downwards, striking the other boy in succession. "You just had to have Clare Edwards. It could have been any other fucking girl, but you had to have her!"

"Gabriel, stop it!" Michael shouted. He ran over and grabbed hold of his arms, trying to keep him from hitting Fitz again.

I covered my mouth- things were starting to go downhill fast. We needed help..._now_. Turning, I bolted towards the sounds of partying kids. I had to get someone to help them before one, or all of them, got hurt...or worse, went over the edge. They were fighting so close to the gulley- it made me nervous.

The moonlight trailed a path of golden light through the dark forest and I caught the scent of the bonfire just before I broke through the trees. A bunch of kids were hanging out and they all whipped around as I cried out.

"Someone help! They're going to go over the edge!"

A large guy in dark gray flannels and a ratty cap stood up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Fitz and Gabe are fighting by the culvert, way too close to the edge," I stammered, my nerves rattled. "Please, you've got to stop them!"

"Ain't my fight, little girl," he said, sitting back down.

I frowned. "But...what if they fall?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "They're the ones who chose to fight by the edge like a coupl'a dumbasses- not my problem."

I shook my head, struck dumb by his indifference, his unconcern for another person's life. It was nuts- how could they all turn their backs like this? It was awful...what was more, it was _sad_. Staring at the little group, I began to understand what the voice had been trying to tell me. I could motivate them- I _was _love...the voice of reason and, goddamn it, I was going to _make _them listen.

"And what if it were your mother, or your father, or your best friend?" I called out.

A few of the kids glanced back at me- some looked curious, others annoyed.

"What _then_?" I bellowed. "Would you leave them to the water, to nature's cold hand? What if it were the one person who actually meant something to you? Because, believe it or not, there is a person out there who feels the same about those boys. Is it fair to walk away, to just turn our backs because they don't look the same?"

I stepped forward as everyone faced me.

"Looks do not matter! We are all the same- we come from the same Source, we are made of the same energy- we are all _human_," I stressed, holding my hands out in entreaty.

"Yeah?" The same big guy cut in, "tell that to my father when he's ignoring me for his girlfriend!"

A few other kids nodded in agreement. Clearly, life had dealt them all a hard hand. But I couldn't let that deter me- because even a lousy hand could hit pay dirt- if the person chose to play for the win.

I gave the big guy a consoling look. "So you choose to become just like him by doing the very same?"

He blinked in astonishment, his mouth falling open.

"It doesn't matter if someone else doesn't care- it doesn't matter if no one ever cared about you- because _you _have the power to break the cycle. You have the power to know love by sharing it with others. And when you share, you receive- you understand that love is given back."

Looking down at his boots, the big guy seemed to be thinking. All the other kids were watching him- I assumed he was the 'leader'. After a minute or two, he finally leveled his gaze. He wore a determined expression as he stood up. Wringing my hands, a shot of hope coursed through me.

"You heard her," he said, looking at his friends while tromping through the snow. "We've got a fight to break up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_"Oh, a kiss without feeling, you stare at the ceiling, this meaningless meeting feels oddly serene..."_

Watching the big guy and his group of friends descend on Fitz and his boys had been nerve wracking but, waiting for my parents to pick me up from the local police precinct, _that_ was intense. My stomach was tied in knots and I clasped my sweaty hands, hoping I wouldn't be locked up for the next year, or worse, shipped off to Brat Camp like Darcy. I wasn't in any legal trouble- someone had thought to explain the situation to the cops when they arrived, which, consequently, was just before things turned into a full on riot. Regardless, my parents would not overlook the facts: I had slipped away from the hospital to hang out in a notorious location with a bunch of half-drunk, sparring hooligans.

And boy, did they _know _how to spar.

Apparently, the big guy, Wyatt Richards, had been Fitz's nemesis for some time and, although he'd been trying to break up the fight, misconception had fouled things up...once again. Things escalated quickly and, before I knew it, the police had descended on The Ravine. Fitz and the rest were carted off in handcuffs while I was whisked away in the front of a squad car. A detective questioned me- asking what had led up to the fight- and I told him eveything I knew, everything I had unearthed earlier that evening. He took notes and later informed me that Fitz and Michael had confessed to everything- giving them all the sordid details about the night Eli went missing. Gabe, on the other hand, was still holding out- insisting that he was innocent.

But Gabe was the last thing on my mind.

Foot jiggling, bottom lip caught permanently between my teeth, I sat along the far wall in the station lobby. I watched the traffic move in and out of the entrance, awaiting the inevitable. The doors were glass- completely transparent- but, now, they looked more like a mirror. The inky night sky created a nebulous looking glass and I peered at my reflection, surprised by how bright, how vivid it looked against the lurid pane.

A figure moved in the glass behind me and I glanced to my right, surprised to see Fitz headed my way. Hands cuffed behind his back, a burly officer tugged him along by a shoulder and led him to a seat at the far end of my bench. He sat down slowly, eyes darting towards me in hesitation.

I sighed- it had been a long day and I wasn't sure I was ready to pardon Fitz. Hell, I wasn't sure I could pardon him at all. I understood his motivation, and I sympathized with it, but it still didn't make up for Eli's condition. In truth, forgiving Fitz was going to take work.

Clearing his throat, he turned towards me. "Clare, I..." he paused, knitting his brows together, "I have no clue what to say here, other than I'm sorry." He looked thoughtful, his forehead crinkling, and he blew out a breath. "It's just...it sounds so fucking lame considering the..."

"Circumstances?" I filled in.

Leaning forward, he nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, you're right," I said, crossing my arms. "It does fall a little short considering all that's happened."

Fitz slouched in defeat. "Yeah, " he mumbled again.

The movement was so humble, so meek, it actually made me feel something for him. I felt..._compassion_. Looking back, it really was sad. He'd bet on a girl he hardly knew, hitched his dreams to a star in a distant galaxy. Fitz had labored under a misapprehension- he believed that, in order to know love, you had to receive it, obtain it from another person. He didn't understand that real love was familiar, it was natural, it existed in him...and he had a duty to share it, to create relationship. Love was really about instant karma: what you visit on others shall be visited upon you. Everyone had love inside of them- hoarding it would do nothing but amplify loneliness.

Cocking my head, I raised my brows as a random passage from the bible popped into my head.

_"Therefore take the talent from him and give it to the one who has ten. For the one who has will be given more, and he will have more than enough. But the one who does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless slave into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."_

_The Parable of the Talents... _My eyes widened as I made the connection. We were all vessels of love and when we shared that love, that talent, it would multiply. For when you love others, they shall love others in return. But if you keep that love to yourself, you squander potential relationship...and misery- outer darkness, sorrow, frustration- is the result.

It was a giant domino effect!

Peeking at him from beneath my lashes, I noticed how distraught Fitz looked. Now that the truth was out, it seemed he could finally be himself and, admittedly, I liked this Fitz a lot better. He was candid, open, what was more, he was _real_. I'd take truth over appearance any day.

"I want you to understand that it's going to take time," I began, my voice soft.

Fitz's head snapped sideways, his expression hopeful, almost desperate.

"But I think I can eventually forgive you," I finished.

A heady gasp slipped out of him. It was an odd sound, one of relief, of solace, and my mouth fell open as I realized something.

_Fitz has never been forgiven before..._I gazed at him in astonishment. It was absolutely mind blowing- how could his life possibly be so barren? Shifting down the bench, he stiffened as I closed the distance between us. He looked tentative, almost afraid, and it made me want to laugh. Clearly, Fitz was more comfortable manipulating love- he didn't know how to deal when it was given freely.

Reaching out, I touched his arm. "I know you think you love me, Fitz," I said, squeezing his bicep in consolation. "But I don't think that's really the case."

He opened his mouth to protest but I held up a hand.

"You don't even _know _me," I stressed. "You only recognize something in Clare Edwards that's lacking in your life- love, light, affection- all things you desire."

He bent his head, tucking his chin into his chest. I could tell he was trying not to all out sob, squeezing his lids together in struggle as I dissected his battered psyche. It did not dissuade me. Fitz needed release- he needed to let go, to smite the emotional turmoil that kept him bound- it was the only way he could see the potential inside of him.

"Understand...it's not real," I continued. "What you think you see is simply what's inside of you. You choose to perceive me the way you do and you choose to like what you perceive. You could just as easily _not _like me...there is always choice in every situation."

He frowned. "I'm not sure I follow..."

"When you look at me, what do you see?" I asked.

His face softened and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Beauty."

"Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye," I replied with a knowing expression.

"Huh?"

"It means that beauty is in the eye of the beholder," I explained. "You choose to think me beautiful, to lavish that compliment on me- but that doesn't mean it is truth across the board- it is only truth to _you_. Everyone is individual and they perceive things as they see fit. I'll bet there are plenty of people who look at me and see a plain old girl, nothing special about her at all. Beauty is relative...it depends solely on choice."

"So you're saying that, somehwere along the line, I decided to think you were beautiful?" he asked, biting his lip.

"Of course," I rejoined. "Think about it- what you think of as beautiful is based on personal preference, on choice. In this way, you create a type based on the things you enjoy, things you find appealing."

Blinking his eyes, Fitz nibbled his lip in contemplation. He looked a little startled.

"Love is similar," I added, clasping my hands and placing them in my lap. "Everyone has love inside of them..._everyone_. It is your choice to recognize that love or to shut it out. You choose to love others, to share what is already inside of you with the world, but you do it based on appearance. With me, you saw something familiar, something that already exists inside of you but that you can't openly feel. I am clear, unobstructed, and love flows freely through me into the world. It's distracting, addicting...and you cling- you _seize_- in hopes that I can help you feel what you think you are missing."

I bit my lip as a tear ran down his face. "But I cannot help you, Fitz," I continued. "Only you can discover what's in here." I prodded the spot over his heart. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Swallowing hard, Fitz met my eyes. For the first time ever, I noticed a modicum of deliberation in them. They were practically glowing with comprehension.

"Everything I see in you is actually what's already inside of..._me_?"

I smiled wide. "Yes! We open ourselves up to those we choose," I replied. "Just think, if we opened up to everyone, recognized that they share the very same qualities that we do, we might never have any problems at all. War and conflict would become obsolete because everyone would love on instinct, instead of loving on condition. This is why heart is separate from mind- if we chose to love based on a list of requirements, no one would ever love at all."

"That's why you fell for Eli?" he asked.

Pulling a deep breath, I picked at the fabric of my dress. "To be honest," I began, wetting my lower lip, "my relationship with Eli wasn't easy to begin with."

"It wasn't?" he asked.

"No, it wasn't." I paused, wondering whether I should divulge such information to Fitz. It was private but...it was also pivotal. If I could get through to him maybe he could heal, maybe he would move on.

Looking up, I noticed the curiosity in his eyes. That was all the motivation I needed.

"Eli was afraid to love after losing someone close to him," I explained. "He had to choose to embrace love again in order for us to get together. He fought it- his mind fought it- because he didn't want to risk his heart."

"But he gave in," Fitz picked up, shaking his head in amusement.

"Yeah, he did. Instead of listening to his head, he chose to listen to his heart." I looked Fitz dead in the eye. "The point is, he chose to embrace love, to open up to me. I might have been the stimulant but, in the end, Eli had to come to terms with his own feelings before we could get together."

Fitz blinked in recognition. "You mean, you weren't the fix."

I chuckled. "I guess you could look at it that way."

Fitz grinned and we looked at each other for a moment. It was weird, having a straight conversation with him, but I also kind of liked it.

"Clare." An austere voice rang out above me.

I looked up in surprise. "Mom! Uh, hi..." I trailed off, a little unsure where to go from there.

"Hi," she fired back, her tone laced with sarcasm. She glanced at Fitz and frowned. "The car..._now_."

Nodding, I peeked at Fitz. "I, uh, have to go," I said, rising from my spot on the bench. "See you around."

The ride home was silent and extremely tense. My mother's anger was palpable- you could cut the stuff with a knife. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white from the pressure, and her breathing was labored, almost ragged. I looked over at her and bit the inside of my mouth- her face was flushed bright red- I had never seen her quite this rattled before...at least, not where I was concerned.

As we pulled up in front of the house, she turned towards me with a resigned expression. "Clare, I-"

"Wait mom," I cut in, holding my palms up in surrender. "Before you let me have it I need to say something."

She cocked her head- clearly my cue to go on.

Taking a deep breath, I looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry," I said, "for everything that I've put you through these past six weeks. I guess you could say that I lost myself, I was stumbling around in the dark, but...now, I feel..."

"Back to normal?" she filled in.

Nodding, I bit my lip in anticipation.

She leaned forward. "I heard you talking to that young man," she explained. "You don't know how wonderful it was to hear my Clare again- my beautiful, expressive, loving daughter."

I opened my mouth but she continued before I could get a word in.

"I want you to know that I'm willing to overlook tonight," she added, earning quite the gasp from me. Smiling, she placed a hand on my shoudler. "Despite the fact that you were at The Ravine, and there was alcohol involved, whatever went on was clearly beneficial." She cupped my chin with her hand, tears streaming down her face. "It gave me back my sweet girl."

Our embrace was simultaneous. We grabbed each other, arms wrapped around necks and shoulders, and we relished the untouchable mother/ daughter connection. I didn't even realize I was crying until I pulled away from her, the sleeve of her woolen coat spotted with tears.

Sniffling, my mother gave me a comforting look. "How was the visit with Eli?"

I shrugged in discomfort. "Uneventful."

"Oh Clare, I'm so sorry," she replied, squeezing my shoulder.

I looked away, hoping for a distraction. Peering through the window at our house, I noticed how dark it looked.

I frowned in confusion. "Where's dad?" I asked.

My mother grimaced and I lifted a brow.

Clearing her throat, she looked at her lap. "He's out at the moment...something for work. He probably won't be back tonight."

"Mom," I stressed.

Heaving a sigh, she looked up at me. "Things are...not going well, sweetie," she admitted.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Did he tell you something, mom?"

Her head snapped in my direction and she began to splutter. "Wha...why would you...what are you...how..."

"I caught him on the phone with her earlier, mom."

She blinked her eyes a couple of times as the information sunk in.

"He did tell you, right?" I asked, a sneer contorting my face.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

"Because it's not my place!" I countered. "This is your marriage and daddy has a responsibility to own up to his infidelity!"

My mother shook her head. "He's moving out, Clare."

I closed my eyes. To be honest, I wasn't surprised by the information but it still hurt like hell to hear it. In fact, the break in my parents' marriage consumed me...consumed my thoughts for the rest of the week. My whole life I'd expected them to stay together, to complete the picture perfect union fairy tales always talked about. But my parents were a far cry from Cinderella and her charming prince...and I finally understood that.

Looking back, it seemed the whole thing with Eli- coming to terms with the idea that life wasn't always perfect- had prepared me for this very situation. Everything in my life had been upended and I'd discovered that, were it not for my new perspective (invoked by a disembodied voice that sounded a heck of a lot like my consciously unconscious boyfriend), I might be one messed up teenager. Luckily, I had caught on to the lesson. The tough stuff in life was a tool- powering through it helped you grow- it helped a person perceive the depth of good things, of love. Because, without hardship, the importance of blessings became obsolete. Indeed, the 'good stuff' had no meaning at all if there was no 'bad stuff' to compare it to.

In short, I could finally wrap my head around the facts: grief had _purpose_.

I tried to maintain this mantra as I walked down the stark, white hospital corridor towards Eli's room. It was a little difficult considering the circumstances but, I knew I had to be strong, to remain optimistic. I wasn't fully back to being myself- there were still a number of things I had to work through- but I knew that if I could get through today without any major issues then I could do anything.

I paused in front of Eli's door. A strange sound was coming from behind the thick, wooden slab. Leaning forward, I pressed my ear against the oak and listened.

_"Black bird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly...all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."_

Someone was singing...singing to Eli. The longer I listened the more I knew it was his father. My eyes welled in affectionate compassion- the man sounded so lost, so very alone- it made my heart clench for him. Straightening my shoulders, I rapped lightly on the door.

It flew open a few seconds later, Isaac Goldsworthy's lanky frame looming in the doorway. "Clare!" he cried, reaching out to pull me in for a hug.

I stiffened as he tugged me forward. It was damn awkward but I assumed it had been a while since he'd hugged anyone- he probably needed the solace.

"Thank goodness you're here," he said excitedly. "There have been some developments in the last few days." He let go of me and stepped back, his face flushing in embarrassment. "Um, so uh...Eli's brain activity has been very high. It's almost as if he's functioning on some unconscious level but he just can't quite break through."

Slack jawed, I stared at Mr. Goldsworthy in shock.

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "It all started a few hours after you left...actually, just after sundown," he continued, oblivious to my astonishment. "It was almost as if Eli was dreaming very heavily. The doctors were astounded- his brain was acting the way it would during a conversation or while engaged in a task that utilized the frontal lobe to a certain degree."

I opened my mouth and then clamped it shut, my teeth clicking together hard. This news was nuts...it was...it was positively insane! Eli's brain activity coincided, down to the very second, with my break at The Ravine. Out in the forest, in that small, isolated clearing, I had hit rock bottom and I remembered feeling odd, as if there were someone there with me. It was strange to think that it could have been Eli but, the bigger picture told me anything was possible. Maybe it had been Eli...maybe that voice I'd heard while dangling in Gabe's arms had been some strange, collective connection. I remember reading about the collective unconscious in a psychology book once. It was the idea that everyone, as a whole, built from a collective, universal, and impersonal psychic system, a system that unified everyone at the unconscious level. Of course, I preferred to call it spirit but, even still, the link occurred in dreamscape...and Eli was certainly there at the moment.

"Clare," Mr. Goldsworthy began, "I found it interesting that all this occurred after you visited my son." He nibbled his lower lip for a moment and shifted on his feet. "I was wondering if you might spend some more time with him today...I mean, longer than usual. I know the last time was difficult but, if you could just...try. That's all I'm asking..."

I gave him a warm smile. "Of course I will."

Stepping aside, he waved me in the direction of the bed. I entered the room at a moderate pace, my breath catching the way it always did whenever I saw Eli. He looked better today, much less pale than the last I'd seen him. His hair seemed to shine in the mid-morning light and his eyes, those beautiful veridian pools, were more alive as well. This sight was welcome- my entire body was strung tight with exhiliration and I moved forward quickly, throwing myself on the bed beside him.

"Eli..." It was more of a gasp then an address. I laid my head against his chest and squeezed him tight. There was no movement on his part but I couldn't bring myself to care. I had missed him so much these past few days...hell, these past few weeks. I could admit now that the last visit had been totally unconstructive.

"I'll, uh, give you two a moment." Mr. Goldsworthy's voice rang out behind me.

I sat up. "Wait."

He turned in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

"You were singing..."

He flushed crimson and began to stutter. "Er, well...it was something that Meredith, um...I mean, his mother used to sing to him and..."

"Black Bird?" I questioned.

He nodded in admission, his eyes glassy. "I thought it might help, you know."

I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. This man...he was so much more than I had initially given him credit for. He had overcome- he had redeemed himself- and all because of love. God how I wished my own father would do the same.

"Are you alright, Clare?"

My eyes snapped open. "Oh, yes...sorry..."

Mr. Goldsworthy smiled. "Just making sure," he replied. "I'm heading down to the cafeteria, can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

I watched him go, thinking on the obvious transformation he'd undergone. Oddly, it made me think more of my father than I would have liked. Every time I tried to divert my thoughts, they would circle but round to him. My mind was clouded with them- vile thoughts, vindicative thoughts...everything about my father made me want to draw blood.

Shaking my head, I attempted to forget them by taking Eli's hand. It was soft and warm.

"I wanted to tell you something," I whispered, leaning back against him. "I had a breakthrough this week..." Pausing, I swallowed hard. "But I'll bet you already know that."

Tilting my head back, I looked up at him. He was staring up at the ceiling, no movement in his eyes whatsoever.

"Oh Eli, you have to know how much I miss you! Can't you come back to me...can't you give me _something_?"

Pushing forward, I hovered in front of him- my lips a hairsbreadth away from his. "I want you Eli, I want you to wake up- to look at me with that snarky little expression and give me hell for something."

He did not stir.

I brushed my lips against his. "I want you to touch me, to pur in my ear...I want you to tease me for blushing at something silly or for hiding my face during one of those slasher flicks you love." My lips moved against his as I spoke. "But most of all, I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I will love you forever." My kiss became more possessive, more inclined to passion, and although he did not respond, this time I took no offense.

And it was all because of Fitz.

He'd made me realize that, maybe, just maybe, giving love to Eli could help him break out of this mental bind he was stuck in. Raking my hands through his soft hair, I gripped his locks while peppering kisses over his beautiful face. His skin was soft and, in contrast, his lips were chapped. It made me shiver with happiness. It was so Eli- beautiful but flawed. Tucking my head up under his chin, I closed my eyes and snuggled closer to him. Lying there with Eli, I felt so relaxed...so content...

"Clare."

My eyes shot open and I sat up in shock. _No...it can't be..._

"Sweetheart, please."

Clenching my fists, I turned away from my gorgeous boyfriend to face the last person I wanted to see.

"_Dad_?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_"Cause here you can't touch me or make me feel lonely, it's here I find comfort, a place I can sleep..."_

I gawked at my father in disbelief. I didn't quite know what to think about him being here and my feelings teetered between anger and amazement. How did he know where to find me? What was more, why had he come at all? It was a little insensitive, given the circumstances and, as the seconds ticked past, I became less astonished and more annoyed. He had a lot of nerve!

"What are _you _doing here?" I snapped.

My father shifted uncomfortably. "You won't take my calls..."

"Hmm," I muttered, tapping my chin, "one might take that as a hint to leave me alone."

He sighed and raised his hands in supplication. "I'm only asking for a few minutes," he said, eyes shifting towards Eli. "I won't keep you long, I promise."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him. "I came here for Eli, not you."

"Please Clare, at least hear me out." His voice was mottled with sorrow, his expression complacent.

Giving the man a once over, I noticed how broken he looked. His suit was wrinkled, his tie was undone, and the tails of his crisp, white oxford were untucked. In short, my dad looked like hell.

A twinge of remorse moved through me and I briefly considered his plea. He wanted a few minutes of my time. He hadn't exactly provided the same these past few weeks. Why should I give him a chance? He had cheated on my mother, he had cheated on me! I felt the familiar prick at the corners of my eyes and I wiped at my face on impulse- I'd become accustomed to the sensation since Eli disappeared- crying was now a daily occurence.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I looked away from my father, focusing instead on my boyfriend. He was in the same position he'd been in when I walked in- one arm slung across his waist, the other limp at his side. Eli stared at a spot high on the wall across from the bed, green eyes dancing in the vibrant sunlight. I wrinkled my brow- was there was something different about his face? It looked less slack jawed and more..._snarky_?

Shaking my head, I chalked it up to wishful thinking. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, hoping to gain some sort of strength in the process. Eli's touch made me thrum with excitement and, suddenly, I felt invincible.

Turning back to my father, I prepared to give him the what for. "Look, dad," I said, my voice tight. "I don't think this is the best time-"

_"All your life, you were always waiting for this moment to arise..."_

I blinked as a verse from the classic Beatles song cut through my train of thought. It was so unexpected- so loud- that I actually squeaked from the volume. Eyes wide, I glanced over my shoulder in expectation. Eli looked the same as he had two seconds before. Swallowing hard, I looked down at my feet. I don't know what I'd expected...given his anti-social behavior, I should have known better. But I thought that maybe...just _maybe_...

I rolled my eyes in a huff- this whole collective connection thing was making me batty and I needed to get a grip, pronto.

"Clare?" my dad proffered, sounding a little concerned.

Startled, I peered up at him. "Huh?"

He furrowed his brows. "Are you...alright?"

Lifting my chin, I sobered quickly. "Fine," I confirmed. "I was just thinking." Clearing my throat, I gave him a reproachful look. "The truth is, I don't think I'm ready to talk-"

_"Take these sunken eyes and learn to see, all your life, you were always waiting for this moment to be free..."_

Once again, a verse from Blackbird ran through my head, cutting off all focus.

"What the hell?" I frowned, a little thrown by my inability to think straight- and my sudden obsession with the White Album.

"Um, sweetheart, are you sure you're alright?"

Waving a hand, I turned my back on my father. "Please dad, just give me a second," I hissed.

My thoughts were erratic- a total whirlwind- but something inside was telling me to listen, to understand. In retrospect, it was a little difficult to try and figure out why you were suddenly hearing voices...but I figured, after everything that I'd been through, I might as well pay attention to what it had to say. After all, it had helped me before.

But why _Blackbird_? What was so special about that particular song? I bit my lip, pondering the meaning behind the lyrics.

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see... _

Sunken eyes.

Sightless.

Blind.

_Ignorant_.

I was ignorant. I couldn't see. There was something that I was missing but, what could it be? Going back over the conversation, I realized that each time I'd tried to tell my dad to take a hike, that song- the song Eli's father had been singing- interrupted me, kept me from severing ties. The message was obscure but it clearly had something to do with Eli...or his father, for that matter.

_Think Clare! _What could Eli's father have to do with this? I tugged on a piece of my hair, running back over everything that had happened with Isaac Goldsworthy. It had been a rough roll for Eli before I came into the picture. Mr. Goldsworthy had been so awful, so negligent, but now...now he was different- he had changed.

And so had Eli.

Gasping, I clutched my chest as the truth dawned on me. After all of the horrible things his father had done to him, Eli was still willing to forgive, to overlook the past in order to build a new future- one based on love and understanding. And even though I had been the catalyst for that ackonwledgement, Eli had still been the one to take the step forward, to embrace his father.

Here, now, Eli was doing the same for me as I had done for him. I could see that. Covering my mouth, I shook my head. Eli was my stimulant, my active component- his absence had taught me to love better and I'd become more than what I was before we met. Or, perhaps, I'd discovered that I always was more...I just couldn't understand it without his help.

Gingerly, I turned to face my father and we locked eyes for a moment. I saw the sincerity in his, the truth in their watery depths, and it was then that I realized...

I had to step up.

All this time I'd been advising everyone else, telling them to share the love inside in order to make use of potential. Yet, here I was, doing the exact opposite. Admittedly, Randal Edwards had done his part- he had come here in an effort to make amends- I'd just been too stubborn to see it.

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see, all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be _free... [/I]Eyes trained on my boots, a tiny smile pulled at my lips. I got it...I actually got it. The song, it meant it was time, time for me to take my father's proffered reigns and guide our wayward relationship back on course- _together_.

Heart pounding, I pulled a shakey breath and met his gaze once more. "What is it you wanted to tell me?" I breathed.

For a moment, I thought he might burst into tears but he managed to compose himself. "I, uh, w-wanted to explain," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wanted to...to try and give you an idea of why things are..." he paused, running a hand through his salt and pepper locks, "the way that they are...between your mother and I."

"Are you going to explain why you cheated?" I asked.

My voice was bittersweet and it made my father cringe.

"There is no excuse for the infidelity, Clare," he admitted. "I chose the wrong reaction and I have no explanation for it."

"Who is she?" I toyed with the hem of my skirt, trying to keep a hold on my temper.

"Who she is doesn't matter," he replied. "All that matters now is you."

I blinked up at him in surprise. "But...what about before? Didn't I matter then?"

"Of course you did!" he cried, looking reviled. "You've always mattered. This thing, this...affair, it had nothing to do with you. It was my way of retaliating against your mother."

"Daddy, it had everything to do with me," I rejoined. "Your actions, mom's actions- they affect me, no matter how much you might think otherwise. I am a member of the family, just like you, and when one of you crashes, we all do."

He furrowed his brows in thought.

I sighed, lifting my hands. "Don't you get it? We're a unit, a family. We're individual but we are also one. We decide things as a family, do things as a family- balance is essential. If I'm off- then you and mom are off- and vice versa. Hell, just look at these past few weeks!" I gestured towards Eli." I've been a total basketcase! Eli's disappearance didn't just hurt me, it drove you and mom to the brink as well."

Wrinkling his nose, my dad cocked his head to the side. "Was he?" He gawked at Eli for a second and then shook his head. "No, never mind..."

"What?" I asked, throwing a curious look over my shoulder.

"Nothing, it's nothing," my father replied. "I just thought he looked different for a second there."

Scanning Eli's body, I narrowed my eyes. My father was right, he _did _look different. I pulled a one eighty and appraised him more fully- his eyes were stull turned up towards the ceiling and he wore that same, odd expression- it lingered between snark and indifference. His body was still- arms by his sides- and he didn't stir...nevertheless, something _was _off.

My father's hand came down on my shoulder and I jumped in surprise.

"Sorry," he said as I whirled around. "But I need you to hear the rest."

I nodded in concession, my mind torn between Eli and my parents' failing marriage.

"Your mother and I have grown apart," he stated, looking grave. "It's been a slow process but...we no longer relate at all. She's very controlling- she wants me to go along with whatever it is she wants to do. I suppose, in a way, I do the very same. I want her to relate to me- she wants me to relate to her- yet we're both unwilling."

"Do you know why that is?" I asked, a shrewd expression on my face.

"Well, being married to someone who refuses to see things from your perspective is frustrating. The result is bitterness."

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that neither of you are willing to bend from your own little perch," I shot back. "The perch _you _deem ideal."

My father raised his brows in amazement. "I, uh, never thought of it that way."

"Of course you didn't," I replied. "You were too busy feeling sorry for yourself- both of you were. The key to communication is being open." I glanced at Eli and my lips twitched. "Trust me, I know..."

He cleared his throat in discomfort. "Perhaps we should have paid _you _for couple's therapy."

I smirked. "All in a day's work."

My father shook his head in amusement. "You're too much."

"Are you going to talk to mom about this?" I replied, ignoring the change of subject.

"Er..."

"Look, I appreciate you coming here," I said, voice tough as nails, "but the real work is dealing with mom. You can't expect me to provide solace, dad. You've got to get it on your own because this is your marriage, _not _mine."

My father cocked his head back and forth in deliberation. "I suppose you're right," he agreed.

"Naturally," I fired back, earning a chuckle from him.

He stared at the floor for a moment and then looked up at me. "I'll talk to her."

"When?" I demanded.

He blinked, taken aback by my vim. "Uh, today?"

I grinned in approval. "Thanks dad."

"You're welcome," he rejoined, his lips turning up. He took another look at Eli and sighed. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. Goodbye, my girl."

With that, he turned and headed for the door. I appreciated his reserve- he did not try to hug me and I knew it was an attempt to give me space. I found it considerate and I hoped he'd do the same for my mother. His stride was measured and, as he neared the door, I realized something- I'd broken through the last of my issues. My father had been at the bottom of the list and, by laying our problems to rest, I was finally free. I could relax, sleep...I'd found comfort despite all the gloomy circumstances. It was...invigorating.

My dad threw one last look over his shoulder before turning the corner- his expression was relieved albeit uneasy. I assumed it was due to the coming storm- a hurricane known as Helen Edwards.

"Dad!" I called out after him.

He poked his head around the jamb and I jogged over. "I'm glad you came," I admitted, bracing a hand on the wall.

"Me too," he whispered, tweaking my nose with his fingers.

"Good luck," I said.

He smiled and nodded. "Thanks, I have a feeling I'm going to need it..."

I watched him go- loping down the pallid corridor- a bounce to his formerly dragging step. _Well, that went better than I expected..._

Turning, I made my way back to Eli's bed and stood at the foot. I stared at nothing in particular, replaying the situation with my father in my head. I was a bit ruffled by the whole experience- especially since Eli, conscious or not, had borne witness to the entire thing. Sweeping the bangs out of my face, I surmised that it was only right- I had been there for him when his father had broken- and now he had returned the favor.

Pulling a deep breath, I smiled at his listless form and walked over to the window. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and I could just make out the rise of St. Elias in the distance. It's craggy, coal colored peaks were firece against a powder blue backdrop. The Don River, once a cold, liquid foe, snaked through the vast metropolis, its placid waters bright beneath a large, lambent sun. A flock of birds- blackbirds- swooped through the air in formation. A few would dip out of line every now and then, enjoying a moment of freedom before rejoining their family.

I was floored by the irony of it all. Licking my lips, I opened my mouth and began to sing. I knew the birds could not hear me but, somewhere deep inside, I knew we were connected. Music was Universal- it would resonate through my soul and into theirs- somehow, the little birds would know...

"Black bird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."

It felt wonderful to let go, to give over to these tiny creatures, to whisper the secrets locked in my heart. In truth, I knew that I was also singing to Eli, letting him know that I finally understood what I had been missing. My heart was open and I was ready to move forward, to give him whatever he needed to get through this minor setback. Because, in the grand scheme of things, I knew it was paltry, inconsequential, and that love would triumph in the end.

Leaning forward, I palmed the pane, my melody fogging over the frosted glass. "Blackbird fly, blackbird fly, into the light of the dark black night..."

"You know Clare, that last verse was a _little _off key."

The air left my body at such a rapid rate, I thought I might pass out. All of my limbs had frozen. I tried to swallow, but failed. In fact, every part of my body had ceased to function.

Except for my heart- that was pounding in my ears like a snare drum.

"Guess it's a good thing you're not trying out for Next Teen Star, eh Edwards?"

That was it- I whipped around like a frickin' top and stared, all out gaped, at the sight before me: Eli...sitting up in bed...wearing the most ridiculous...strike that, the most gorgeous smirk I had ever seen.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_"I can lie to myself, I can lie to myself, I can be what you want me to be..."_

Excitement wasn't quite the word for how I felt.

It was more of an alloy- zeal, bliss, marvel, sheer relief- it hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the breath from my body. I felt numb, almost boneless, and I stared at Eli in absolute awe. I wanted to go to him, to kiss him, to run my hands through his hair, but there was lack of control on my part. I literally could not move, or speak for that matter. I was _that _rattled by the situation.

Eli looked around, the same wiley smirk on his face. "Why is it that every time I wake up, I'm in a goddamn hospital bed with you standing vigil?" he drawled.

His droll sarcasm was a divine melody and it touched me on such a deep level that I couldn't take it- the dam finally broke. Stumbling sideways, I dropped to the floor, covering my face as tears descended in a tidal blitz. I shook- my hands quivered, my body undulated- each sob racking me with afflicted happiness. I was so overcome with emotion that no sound came out of me- my mouth hung open in a silent wail. Since discovering that Eli was alive, I had tried to prepare myself for this moment...and I'd gotten to a point where I actually thought I'd be able to handle it if he woke up.

Boy, was I kidding myself.

Through my blubbering, I could hear Eli rustling around on the bed above me.

"Ow, dammit..." he muttered under his breath. "_Oof_!"

A loud _thud!_sounded near the foot of his bed and I looked up in concern. There was Eli, sprawled on the floor, looking very put out. His hair was mussed, his pajamas were twisted, and his smirk had segued to an irritated grimace.

"What the hell is wrong with my legs?" he huffed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "They feel like they're on permanent siesta!"

I blinked, a little confounded by the sudden turn. The situation, coupled with my heady, emotional disposition, was so absurd, so surreal, I couldn't contain myself. I tipped my head back and howled with laughter.

Eli narrowed his eyes. "Think that's funny, do you?" he growled. "Once I figure out how to wake these things up, you'll be sorry Edwards."

I spluttered through my giggles. "Th-they're...a...atrophied."

"Atrophied?" he repeated, a puzzled look on his face. "But that would mean..." He trailed off, biting down on his bottom lip in thought.

My laughter ebbed as I watched him ponder. I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful he was. In truth, Eli was an amalgam- a mixture of characteristics- and every one of them was downright resplendent. No matter the mood, he always managed to look delectable, and right now was no different.

"I've been out a while, haven't I?" he asked.

Nodding, I tried my best to look reassuring. "Do you remember anything at all?"

Eli furrowed his brows. "I do, actually," he said, "but it's weird...my memories are surreal, they're dreamlike. I almost feel like my mother was with me at one point."

I opened and closed my mouth, unsure of what to say to that. After everything that had happened, I wouldn't put it past the Universe to throw that at Eli. If there was one thing I had learned, it was that anything was possible.

"Does that sound batty?" he asked, lifting a brow.

I shook my head, unable to procure the proper response for such a question.

"So...how long was I out, exactly?" he asked.

I didn't miss the anxiety in his tone or the way he wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Six weeks," I whispered.

"Six _weeks_?" he cried. "That's like, two months of my life!"

Biting my lip, I looked down at the floor. "I know..."

The silence was tangible. It permeated the room. I hugged my knees to my chest, floored by the sudden tension. Eli and I had never come up short where conversation was concerned and this odd moment of incongruity struck me dumb. I had no idea what to say. What could I say? The details of his disappearance were painful, revealing them would be like opening a wound that had finally begun to heal.

"Clare." There it was- that soft, stressing tenor that made me weak in the knees.

I looked up into a veridian ocean. His eyes were probing, they were hungry, and I knew he wanted to me to tell him everything...he wanted inside my head. But I wasn't sure I was ready. To be completely honest, I was scared. I hadn't come here with the intention of speaking to a conscious Eli- a one sided match was much easier than a volley. Yet, here he was, sitting in front of me, his sharp intellect pointed in my direction. I feared the possible lashing the truth might invoke- Eli's rhetoric was whetted when necessary- and I was terrified of what he would think of me.

"Clare, please..." he pressed.

The pleading in his voice snapped my resolve like a twig.

Pulling a deep breath, I gave him a somber look. "Okay, what's the last thing you remember?" I asked.

His eyes dropped to the floor and he cleared his throat. "Well...you."

I leaned back, surprised by his response. "Me?"

"Yeah, it's...uh, fuzzy," he explained, running a hand through his hair, "but I can see you by..." Closing his eyes, he trailed off and a shudder rolled through his body.

My eyes widened and I gawked at him in wonder. "By what, Eli?"

He leveled his gaze. "The Ravine."

I gasped and a hand flew up to my mouth.

"That's where..." he began.

I nodded, furling my hands under my chin. "Where everything went down," I supplied.

He glowered at me in disapproval. "What on earth were you doing there?" he asked.

Ashamed, I looked away from him and played with my fingers absently. I knew I couldn't get around a response- this was Eli I was talking to- but I reveled in my ability to delay.

"Answer me, Clare." He sounded angry but I knew he wasn't- it was more a petulant concern.

"I...I wanted to find out what really happened to you," I breathed, not bothering to meet his eyes.

"Then you were there with Fitz," he replied, his tone emotionless.

"Yes." It was a timid validation.

"And you were..._different_," he said.

I looked at him then, amazed by the information he was spitting out. Eli looked like he was far away, his eyes clouded over in nostalgia, a small frown marring his perfect face.

"I could barely see you- it was almost as if you were wrapped in an inky cloth."

My mouth fell open. He was pound for pound.

"I tried to...to..."

Picking at the sleeve of my sweater, I licked my lower lip. "Get through to me?"

He blinked in surprise. "You heard that?"

Leaning forward, face shining with tears, I blew out a tiny breath. "Yes Eli, I think I did."

He opened his mouth- nothing came out but a rattled gasp. He looked positively bewildered and the uncertainty in his eyes was loud and clear.

"I thought I was dreaming," he murmured.

"It was a tense situation," I explained. "I don't know how but, these past few weeks there have been some odd developments between us."

"Our connection," he said, staring at the wall behind me. "I always thought it was just a massive chemical thing. I mean, obviously there's consciousness as well, but I chalked up the crazy stuff to hormones...and maybe a bit of wishful thinking."

He smirked and I bit my lip, trying to hide a smile.

"I talked," he continued. "I figured, what the hell? If it was a dream I'd be none the worse for wear, you know? Besides, you sounded so...so..."

"I was miserable," I admitted. "Losing you was like losing my reason for living."

Eli looked at me, his face a slide of varying emotions. Confusion, distaste, surprise...one by one they flickered past, finally settling on one: _amusement_.

I frowned in annoyance as he barked a laugh. "Hey, can I help if I love you?" I snapped.

He smacked his knee, chuckles streaming out of him. "No, no..." he rasped, his cheeks red from merriment, "I'm sorry...it...it was just so funny to hear you say that!"

Rolling my eyes, I pouted. "It was the first time I'd ever lost someone, Eli," I groused. "You should know better than to make fun of that."

He cocked his head to one side and a consoling smile tugged at his lips. "Of course I know that," he confirmed. "But you were the person who helped me overcome!"

I peeked up at him from beneath my lashes. "Even the teacher is subject to lesson, Eli."

This time he all out grinned. "Now _there's _my Clare," he replied with a wink.

Blushing, I waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah...so how did it feel to return the favor?" I asked.

Eli frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You were the one who taught me the lesson, numnuts," I teased.

He shook his head, an odd expression on his face. "No Clare," he countered. "_You _helped _me_."

What was he talking about? I was the one who'd been out to lunch!

"I can tell you think I'm nuts," he said, "but I know it's true. You were a beacon, a glowing light...you were my sun! You lit up my dark world and led me back to the surface. As soon as I hit the water that night, you were the only thing on my mind, Clare. The only thing. You were my motivation- the person who taught me to love again- and I made it back because of you."

Shaking my head, I covered my face with my hands. "No I didn't," I sobbed. "I was a mess! The things I did, Eli...you would be so disappointed in me, you would-"

"Never," he cut in, his voice cold and hard. "I could never be disappointed in you."

If he only knew... I buried my face in my knees, mortified by my recent behavior.

A pair of warm hands touched my legs and I peered up from between my arms. "Don't cry, Edwards," he whispered, tilting my head back with a finger. "Don't you get it? We're a match, a pair...you're the Rocky to my Bullwinkle...the sun to my-"

"Moon," I interjected, my heart leaping into my throat.

"_Exactly_," he said, a wide smile splitting his face. "You know Clare, the moon has no light without the sun."

My mouth fell open. He was absolutely right- the moon's light was actually a reflection of the sun! Eli was trying to tell me that my light, my love, had been the one thing to help him find his way through the darkness. I blew out a shakey breath. It all made sense- his heightened brain activity occurred during the first cycle of my growth. In that tiny clearing, in the imiddle of the woods, I had faced my pain and come out clean. My tears had baptized me, had cleansed me, and the moon had shone a little brighter, leading me to the next leg I was set to endure. Placing a hand over my chest, I focused on my heart beat. It was telling me to be strong, to feel, in my very fiber, that everything Eli was saying was true.

And then it hit me.

Eli had woken when I settled things with my father- when the last of my issues had been cast assunder. He had come out of his stupor because my light was no longer ostructed. And now...now he could see. Shaking my head, a tiny giggle bubbled up from the pit of my stomach. So the snarky gothic poet is my match, eh?

Meeting his gaze, I knew it was true. I had lied to myself for far too long...I was who I was meant to be, not what everyone else wanted me to be, and the best part of all was- Eli loved me for me.

Biting my lip, I glanced down at the floor in diffidence. "So...we're a match, huh?"

Eli gave me a coy smile that lit up his face. He nodded, his expression so open, so intense, that it stole my breath. Swallowing hard, my heart began to pound and I gazed at him, eyes wandering down his lean body. It had been so long since I'd touched him and the thought made me crazy with need. Shifting, I flushed and nibbled my lower lip, trying to will my hormones into submission. Resolve was futile- my body was unwilling to cooperate with my mind and the heat began to pool in the pit of my stomach. It built into a raging fire that threatened to overpower me, to conquer the last of my control...

Eli seemed to notice the change in my demeanor. His brows shot up into his hairline and a wicked smile spread over his face. "Why Edwards, you look a little..._heated_."

His jab was useless and I batted it away like a harmless gnat. With a wanton growl (something completely out of character, mind you) I shot forward with only one thing in mind: _Possession_. My movements were swift, not unlike a predatory feline, and I quickly found myself in Eli's lap, straddling his narrow waist. My hands were everywhere- threading through his hair, roaming up and down his chest and back- and my lips were demanding, they were hard. This wasn't about sweet innocence or loving gestures- it was about reclaiming what was _mine_. I had been without my moon for nearly two months and, now that it was no longer eclipsed, my tide was high and ready to whisk him away.

I was vaguely aware of Eli's hands- one gripping my waist, the other snaking up my side to cup my cheek. His touch was invigorating. A blend of hot and cold, it paired lust and passion with blissful winter, a strain of gooseflesh rippling across my skin as his palm smoothed over my neck.

"God, Clare," he breathed, trailing kisses across my jawline. "You taste _so good_..."

I whimpered as he nibbled a spot below my ear. It seemed to ignite something in Eli and he grunted, pulling me closer to him, if that were even possible. Our kissing became rhythmic, his tongue dancing against my own with measured precision. It was odd- even after a six week hiatus, we had our movements down to science.

Biology had never been so good.

In fact, it was so good it began to get a little..._carnal _in nature. As we kissed, my need to feel closer to him grew and I tilted my lower body forward. Eli groaned in response, grabbing my hips as I moved against him. The evidence of his arousal pressed up against my more private area and a strange sensation began to stir in my lower belly. We were both breathing heavily, practically panting between kisses, and we'd lost all awareness of the world around us. In fact, we were completely oblivious to the fact that we were in a public setting and that anyone could walk in on us at any time.

"Clare!"

Eli and I broke apart in an instant, heads snapping sideways simultaneously.

"Are you in..." Adam stopped mid-sentence, aghast at the sight that met him. "...Eli's lap?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_"I can make myself feel what I want to believe, I am free, I am free, I am free..."_

Adam looked like a ghost. His face had paled, his eyes were hollow, and his mouth hung open in a silent wail. I began to worry when he didn't move, he just stared at us with the same startled expression.

"Dude, are you _alright_?" Eli asked, tone laced with concern. His deep barritone rumbled against my chest, traveled down through my body and out the tips of my toes.

It felt good..._too _good and, for a beat, eclipsed my concern for our friend.

Sucking in a breath, Adam held up a hand. "You know," he began, his voice full of playful aggravation, "I just don't get it. No matter what I do- take the long way, read another issue of my favorite comic, watch television, do _homework_- I still walk in on the two of you humping like a couple of chiuauas in heat!" He shook his head. "I even manage to do it when _you're _supposed to be comatose!" He stubbed a finger at Eli and wrinkled his nose. "Although, I guess I'm glad you're not...that would've been a little too necrophilial for my taste..."

"Oh my God!" I muttered, face burning in embarrassment. I buried my head in the crook of Eli's neck and refused to come up for air. I could not believe the kid- he really was a snarky little butthole when the occassion called for it.

Eli, on the other hand, seemed to appreciate Adam's candor. I could tell from the way he tipped his head back and howled with laughter.

It was nothing if not irritating.

"Man, it is so good to see you," Adam added. "Well, what I _can _see of you under all that Edwards."

I growled in frustration and Eli chuckled. "You too, man," he replied, clearing his throat. "Uh, Clare, keep in mind that although I immensley enjoy this position-"

"Please _do not _finish that sentence," Adam cut in, his face a bit green.

"Why, whatever do you mean, Adam?" Eli drawled, a mocking quality to his voice. "The one where I beg Clare to slip into one of those little candy striping uniforms and give me a sponge-"

"Argh! _Shut up!" _The other boy shoved his fingers in his ears and began to sing a string of nonsense.

I slugged Eli in the shoulder and a guttural laugh bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. The sound was infectious. No matter how hard I tried to keep from giggling, it was useless. I met his wild green eyes- they were dancing, alight with mischief- and he winked at me in playful censure. It was clear Eli would never tire of his artful shenanigans.

"You're bad, you know that?" I asked, lacing my hands behind his head.

"You love it," he whispered.

Biting my lip, I glanced down at the front of his shirt. "I love _you_."

Lifting my chin with a finger, he gave me his most notorious smirk. "I know..."

Huffing, I made to slide off of his lap but a warm hand came up on my lower back, holding me in place. Eli's other hand snaked up my side, climbing along the fabric of my sweater, and cupped my cheek. We stared at each other for a moment, as if memorizing every curve, every feature. My breath caught in my throat as the intensity in his deep, green gaze spiked. It didn't matter if Eli hadn't said it back- everything I needed to know was right here, in front of me. He was the physical affirmation of love in my life and, in an odd moment of abberation, an old Shakespearian quote came to mind.

_As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words. _

Not one word in the English language, or any language for that matter, could rival this. True love was tangible, it was touchable, and right here, in Eli's arms, I'd never felt more loved in all my life. Pulling me forward, his mouth covered mine. His lips were soft, they were chaste, but every hair on my body still stood on end. I whimpered quietly as he fisted the back of my sweater and we lost ourselves in the rythmic pattern of shared breath and dual heart beats.

Adam heaved an agitated sigh just behind us and Eli broke our kiss, giving me an amused look. Peeking at Adam, he shrugged. "Figured I may as well go out with a bang," he ribbed.

I shook my head and jumped up, turning to face one annoyed Adam Torres.

Scoffing, he shook his head and swooped forward, pulling a swaying Eli to his feet. "Yeah, yeah...forever the third wheel," he blustered.

They stood in awkward silence, both at a loss for what to do. Adam tugged at his beanie and Eli smoothed the front of his tee shirt, featuring the infamous _D.O.A._- a band he claimed single handedly started the 'hardcore punk scene' in Canada. I grinned inwardly- they both seemed more interested in their clothes than each other.

I looked back and forth between them and rolled my eyes. "Now boys," I teased, a wicked grin spreading over my face. "I think you're past the bungling first date stage of your relationship."

Adam snorted. "This coming from the girl who can't take a joke about necrophilia," he groused.

"Just cut the crap and get on with it!" I pressed, bringing my hands together to simulate their union.

Smirking, Eli took a shakey step forward and Adam did the same. I watched with affection as the two boys were reunited. They shared a typical, male embrace- stiff and dense, with heavy back pat- but I didn't miss the happiness on each of their faces. It was a touching, heartfelt scene- especially for a couple of guys hellbent on shirking emotional conduct.

"We've missed you a lot, man," Adam said as he pulled away from Eli.

His voice was strained and it sounded like he might burst into tears. Shifting on his feet, Adam pulled at the hem of his oversized, flannel shirt. His large, expressive eyes were clouded with sentiment and it clenched my heart. I had forgotten how close he and Eli really were. Standing here now, between two boys who meant more to me than anything else in the world, I realized how truly selfish I had been. All this time I'd been focused on myself...I had completely overlooked my best friend. I left Adam hanging, as if he didn't have it hard enough already. There was no other way to slice it- I was a self-righteous brat.

Stepping in front of Adam, I kept my eyes trained on the linoleum. I wanted to tell him everything- tell him how sorry I was for being such an idiot, but I wasn't sure how to go about it. Biting my lip, I tried to figure out a way to tell him without digging a deeper hole.

"Clare?" he proffered.

Tentatively, I met his eyes. "Adam...I..." trailing off, I looked away.

Why was this so hard? I'd been friends with Adam for a while now. Good friends- what we had wasn't your average, everyday relationship. In some way, Adam had become almost as important as Eli...just in a different capacity. If it weren't for him, for his support and love, I might have lost myself the first week Eli went missing. But I didn't, and I had him to thank for it. He kept me anchored and never let me hurtle into oblivion, no matter how hard I tried to sever the line.

I owed him..._big time_.

"I love you, Adam," I whispered.

It was soft and tenuous, but I knew he heard it. I could tell by the way his body stiffened. There was tension in the room- a thick, obvious pressure- though, surprisingly, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was warm and it signified a coming fusion- the electrical union of three individuals. In that moment, I knew that a single step was all it would take to reunite our little group.

I looked up at him, determination in my bright, blue gaze. "I just wanted you to know that," I added. "Because I feel like I haven't been there for you and-"

"You've been there, Clare," he cut in.

I blinked up at him. "No I haven't! I've been a total-"

"Clare," he interjected again, placing both hands on my shoulders. "Did it ever occur to you that you can't be the rock _all the time_?"

I opened and closed my mouth, not quite sure how to answer that question.

Adam's dyed in the wool expression segued to one of pure delight, a wide grin splitting his angelic face. "You've been there for me, for _us_," he gestured to Eli who was now lounging on the side of the bed. "This entire year- through ups and downs, in and outs- you've been loyal and supportive, a true friend. What's more, you've given me something I never had before."

Biting my lip, I cocked my head. "What's that?" I murmured.

"A chance to be the advocate," he replied in a single beat.

I frowned, a little thrown by his response.

"Don't you get it?" he exclaimed. "I've always been the beneficiary, the recipient. People pity me- it's the motivation behind their kindness. Instead of treating me like a person, they'd befriend me out of guilt..._until _I met you. Friendship with you and Eli isn't about doing me a favor. It's real give and take- it's love."

A tear slid down my face and I nodded in understanding. This group was about more than just three teenagers who had things in common. We were connected, in some crazy, celestial way, and I knew that our decisions, our personal struggles, had led us to one another. They had led us to love and there was nothing greater than that. Eli and I shared a romantic bond- the kind of love that people write about in fairy tales, that men and women desire to experience. Adam and I shared a familial bond- the kind of love people long for everyday, that everyone needs to make them feel _alive_.

And we had it.

Three average kids...three average _freaks_. One, the hopeless goth- obsessed with death- unfeeling, sarcastic, faithless, and dark. The other, a gender confused crackpot- obsessed with being a boy- gay, sinful, lost, and just plain nuts. And, finally, the innocent-eyed, little church girl- obsessed with her faith- pious, judgmental, sanctimonious, and prudish.

No matter what anyone else saw- we had the love they so desperately craved. We'd broken from the labels that tried to bind us, to keep us confined to some little box marked socially inept. We could not be marked, we were unfettered, we were indefineable...what was more, we were _free_.

A smile split my face and I nodded. "You're right," I said, stepping into his outstretched arms. "It _is _love."

I could see Eli grining at us from his spot on the bed. The light was streaming in through a window behind him, setting his dark hair ablaze. It almost looked as though a golden halo hung about his head and, with the puckish look on his face, he looked a bit like a fallen cherub.

Keeping his arm wrapped around my shoulder, Adam tugged me over to the bed. We sat down next to Eli as a unit, much as we had that day in Simpson's office.

"So, dude, I'm up to speed on your resurrection," Adam stated as he leaned forward to look at Eli, "but how are you? I mean, are you feeling okay?"

Eli braced his arms on his legs. "Other than pins and needles, no complaints here, man," he rejoined.

"Oh...uh, do you, like...remember anything?" Adam asked, nibbling his lower lip in concern.

Eli's gaze darted in my direction for a brief moment before flitting back to Adam. "Uh...no, not much," he assured him. "Just some...really weird dreams."

His voice had thickened and he looked a bit uncomfortable. Reaching out, I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. I didn't know if Eli would ever tell Adam about our connection- he probably figured it would make him feel even more on the outs- and that was the last thing either of us wanted. Adam was family and we would do whatever it took to keep it that way.

"Wow..." Adam said after a contemplative moment. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling alright. We were worried about you- first, you went missing, and then...oh shit..."

Frowning, I turned towards him in question. "What's wrong?"

"Have you told him yet?" Adam asked.

I shot him a warning look but Eli was way ahead of me.

"Told me what?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I replied, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Nothing, eh?" I could feel the piercing glare on the side of my face. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar, Edwards?"

My shoulders fell and I heaved a defeated sigh. "God, Adam...I'm going to _kill _you," I gritted out.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know you hadn't told him?" he snapped. "There wasn't a disclaimer on the door that read-_ WARNING! Eli Goldsworthy has risen from the dead...hold your tongue or else!_"

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "Adam, you really are ridiculous at times, you know that?"

"Ditto, babe."

"While I find this witty banter absolutely _riveting_," Eli cut in, his tone low and sarcastic, "I'd really appreciate it if one of you could tell me what the hell you're going on about."

Blowing out a heavy breath, I face him. "It's about...Fitz."

Eli's face twisted in revulsion. "What about him," he asked.

"Well..." I paused, trying to come up with a good way to go about this. "He's been arrested for your assault."

His mouth fell open in surprise. "_Arrested_?" he repeated, looking slightly dazed.

"Yeah, man," Adam interjected, earning a harsh scowl from me. "The whole school's talking about it. He's being charged for attempted murder. The trial starts in two months."

"Thanks for filling him in, Adam," I griped, rolling my eyes.

Eli stared at the floor in shock, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

"You okay?" I nudged him in the arm and his head snapped sideways, eyes fluttering in astonishment.

"Uh, yeah," he confirmed. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"About?"

He leveled his gaze, a resolved expression on his beautiful face. "About how I'm going to testify..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_"I am free."_

The next two months passed at an alarming rate. Eli was released from the hospital a week after he came to. He went through some minor rehabilitation to help with muscle atrophy but, all in all, he was doing well. He did have some minor cognitive impairment- he would stick on certain words or phrases, something he referred to as an Akinetic Brainfart- but the doctors said that would improve with time.

Indeed, things did seem to return to normal as we neared the eight week mark. Eli reverted to his old self- sweet, smart, and snarky- but he lacked the overly cynical outlook on faith he'd had before. He seemed more open to the idea now more than ever before. Trauma seemed to make light of things and, conceding to something bigger than himself, especially after such a horrific ordeal, wasn't all that hard to believe. No one could understand it better than I. To me, the hard knocks were life's way of showing a person the importance of blessings, of the good stuff. I had done a lot of thinking these past eight weeks and had come to one conclusion: if I had not lost Eli, I could never fully understand the true depth of our connection. Losing him made me appreciate what we had even more. In short, suffering had taught me to love him more deeply.

And to appreciate every relationship I had...especially Adam. My friendship with him had also become more profound, more moving.

In fact, there was not one negative consequence that came up where Eli's disappearance was concerned. Yes, it had hurt like hell and, yes, I had done some questionable things...but it had taken raw, alternate perspective to help me see the purpose of his absence. It was meant to help me, not on a material level, but on a personal one. I had grown- both spiritually and socially- I had learned to look at things from a broader view point and, most important, to consider everything. Why did certain things happen in my life? Is this event a result of my own choice, or someone else's? There was a point, a lesson, in every catastrophe, in every marvel. No choice or consequence was separate from me...from _us_. Everyone was in control of their life, had the freedom to will it according to their desires. Foils- both our own and others'- affected us in stride. In this case, Fitz's mistake had impacted me on such a level, that it brought me greater understanding. About love, about relationship, about the Universe and my role in it- I was a single thread in one, great tapestry. I might cross over another thread or our colors might bleed together but, in the end, I was still a pivotal part of the final picture. No matter what, my life had significance.

I wouldn't exist, otherwise.

Now that I had opened my eyes to consideration, I understood how my personal struggles, my grief and despair, served me. Hell, they had even helped me overcome the blockade beteen me and my father and, in turn, helped him seek out understanding with my mom. Eli had also begun to make the connections- he could see the importance of his life..._and _his father's. Isaac Goldsworthy had done a complete one eighty following his son's reappearance. He had begun to make strides just before Eli went missing but the pains he endured now, to prove his devotion, were really quite noble. Clearly, the possibility of losing another family member had jauged something loose inside of him. Truth be told, I was impressed with the outcome.

Eli, on the other hand, was completely nonplussed.

"It is too weird!" he exclaimed. "The man actually wants to go _fishing_!" He shook his head in amused aggravation. "I mean, do I look like the kind of guy who goes _fishing_?"

We were sitting under our favorite tree in the park, jumbled together in one great heap, as per usual. Eli leaned back against the tree, toying with my newly ash colored ringlets, while I curled up between his long legs, giggling at his outburst. Adam was sprawled in the grass, his head on my leg, and he snorted while flipping through the latest edition of _The Goon_.

"You'd definitely scare the hell out of the fish, man," he said dryly.

Eli cocked a brow. "Real funny, Adam."

Chuckling, I shot him a look. "He _does _have a point, Eli. Knowing you, you'd bring your iPod and frighten the fish away with all that screamo crap you listen to."

His head snapped sideways, his expression scandalized. "Excuse me, Edwards?" he replied. "_Crap_?"

"Oh, now you've gone and done it," Adam groused, rolling his eyes. "Get ready for the latest tirade on the importance of punk rock in modern day society. I had to endure that lesson just yesterday."

"Hey! It _is _important!" Eli countered, stubbing a finger at Adam. "Think of it as-"

"A really loud, really persuasive suggestion box," Adam cut in with a smirk.

Eli narrowed his eyes. "I don't hear you complaining when I play it," he growled.

"Yeah, the only time I complain is when you climb up on that soapbox," Adam rejoined with a dramatic yawn. "Dodging all the hot air really wears me out."

I covered my mouth, trying my best not to laugh. Adam _did _have a point. Eli had a habit of launching into endless, politically or socially driven speeches. Sometimes I'd leave his house feeling as if I'd just endured a campaign junket. The kid was good- he could run for office if he wanted to...if the office backed anarchist views on society, that is.

"I am not up on my soapbox," Eli argued. "And you two were the ones who started this!"

I patted him on the shoulder. "You're right, Eli. I'm sorry for insulting your," I paused in playful contemplation, "..._music_.

He did not miss the sarcastic lilt in my voice.

"Alright, that's it!" he bellowed.

Flipping me onto my back, Eli stradled my hips and Adam's head hit the ground with a resounding_ thud!_He began tickling me and I shrieked, begging him to stop. The boy was relentless.

"Thought you'd get away with that little jab, did you?" he teased, raking his spindley fingers over my ribs.

I was dying. In fact, I was sure my face was probably blue from lack of air and that I looked like a complete fool. My head fell over and I gave Adam a pleading look. The little traitor rolled onto his side, watchihng Eli torture me with an amused expression.

_Why, you little ankle biter! _I glared at him as best I could through a haze of hysteria.

"Now, _what _were you saying about my music?" Eli asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. He let up long enough for me to shoot off an answer.

"Okay, okay, your music is..._rubbish_!" I declared, hoisting my hips off the ground.

His eyes widened as he slid off of me into the grass. Jumping up, I skipped a few feet away and whirled around, a wily gin on my face. He and Adam gawked at me in surprise.

"Learned that move from my dad," I explained. "He wrestled in high school- it's called a standard bridge."

The two of them stared at me a moment longer before Eli guffawed. It seemed the idea of Clare Edwards wrestling was too much for him.

Adam, on the other hand, looked intrigued. "So, you think you could show me some of those moves some time?" he asked.

"Oh Christ," Eli choked out between chuckles, "that's one mental image I did not need! Clare the Bear vs. Victor Victoria."

We gave him identical scowls.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd used that move against Fitz you wouldn't have tumbled over the edge of a cliff!" Adam rejoined.

Eli's laughter ebbed and he raised a brow in contention. "I wasn't the one to go over first, thank you vey much."

I nibbled my lower lip. "You haven't said much about that night these past two months," I began, shifting on my feet in discomfort, "not even with the hearing approaching."

It was true- Eli had been decidedly moot on the subject. I had expected him to confide in me, to give me a detailed explanation for everything that had happened, for how he felt..._something_. But he told me nothing. He told Adam nothing. He would only comment every once and a while on his meetings with the prosecution, but even then he remained obscure. It was frustrating- I felt like he was keeping a part of himself hidden away.

"It's in three days Clare," he corrected. "I'd say it's already here."

Looking down at my feet, I nodded. "And, you're still set on testifying?"

He did not answer directly and I leveled my gaze. Meeting his eyes, I saw the internal struggle going on behind them. Typically, they were resolved- dead set- but, when it came to this particular topic, Eli had a way of teetering.

Finally, he blew out a breath. "I am," he replied.

I didn't know how to feel about his decision. On the one hand, I thought Eli had every right to be angry with Fitz but, on the other, I felt he should let go of his anger, of the need for retribution. Fitz had tried to make amends through action. He confessed to everything. He plead guilty. He was willing to do time. He had saved me from Gabriel. Yet, none of these things seemed to sway Eli's decision. According to him, the prosecution wanted to impress the gravity of the situation on the judge by having him give his testimony.

And Eli seemed to agree.

Heaving a sigh, I shrugged. "Alright then."

He peered at me for a moment. "You don't think I should," he stated.

I clasped my hands, wringing them in uncertainty. "I don't know..." I admitted. "It's just-"

"I can't believe you'd forgive that asshole, Clare!" Adam interrupted. "He almost killed your boyfriend."

"But he didn't," I snapped.

"Not that he didn't try!" he fired back.

"Adam," Eli interjected, "you know it was all a ruse."

"But if Fitz had let you be, this shit never would've happened."

"_Exactly_," Eli concurred with a single nod.

"So that's why you're testifying? Because of indirect consequence?" I frowned at him in disapproval. "There's a difference between an accident and intent, Eli! Besides, _your _choice had just as much to do with that fall as Fitz's."

He stared at me, his beautiful face indifferent. "I have my reasons, Clare," he replied lowly.

I looked away, unsatisfied with his answer. I had a bad feeling about all this. What if his choice stunted the progress he'd already made? Eli had buried the hatchet with a man he'd blamed for his mother's death- another indirect consequence- yet he couldn't do the same for a punk kid who was all screwed up. I could not wrap my head around his logic- it just did not make _any _sense.

"Fine," I clipped. "Listen, I've got loads of homework to finish before Monday so I'm heading out. See you later."

I turned on my heel and marched towards the park entrance, not bothering to respond when Eli called my name. I was too gobsmacked to deal with his rationale. That did not deter him, however. I made it halfway home before he caught up to me, huffing and puffing from the hike.

"C-clare," he hissed, grabbing my wrist. "Please."

Turning around, I pulled my hand from his grasp and crossed my arms. "What is it?"

He gave me that typical look- an expression that screamed supplication. "Why are you angry with me?"

"Because I don't approve of you testifying," I replied.

It was a simple admission and it quelled Eli's litany. His already yielding expression softened and he gave me a smile that stole my heart...for the second time. Wide, open, tender- the boy looked positively breathtaking. I really hated when he did this, there was no way I could stay angry with him when he was being so sweet, so accessible.

Unfurling my arms, Eli took my hands in his. "Do you trust me, Clare?" he asked, his tone oddly serious.

I blinked up at him in surprise. "Of course I do."

I replied without missing a beat and his smile grew even wider. "Then I need you to trust me with this."

Biting down on my lip, I frowned. I knew it was ridiculous but, for some reason, I felt a bit protective of Fitz and Michael after everything that had happened. We had all come to an understanding. There was something to be said for honesty and both of them had gone out of their way to show me that they would do whatever it took to make things up to Eli. Naturally, I would always back the boy I loved but, in the same vein, I could not comprehend his thought process! Looking up into his eyes, I saw the truth, the sincerity in them...and it made me consider. Something inside was telling me to listen, to have faith.

And I was a girl who had always relied on faith.

"You know, after everything that's happened, I realized something," I said, squeezing his hands. "I realized that every move, every decision we make inevitably plays into this greater, Universal...call it a plan...but, I don't know if that's really the word. I think it's more of an interplay- we interact in order to learn from each other." I peered into his jade colored eyes- he stared back, his gaze never faltering. "But, it takes faith, a willingess to understand each other, to understand the role we play in another person's life." I gave him a tiny smile. "I guess what I'm trying to say here is, I have faith in you."

I did not expect the kiss. In fact, it took me completely by surprise, as Eli's kisses usually did. He had a way of sneaking in and grabbing me, his mouth on mine before my head caught up. It didn't matter...by the time it did, my body was already so far gone the boy had to literally keep me from collapsing into a heap. Today was no different. Eli had me pressed up against a fence, one hand twisted in my curls, the other sliding down my back towards my tush. I was lost in the dual feeling of his hands and his tongue- he was a very talented boy on both accounts- and a tiny moan slipped out of me. He smirked against my lips, kissing along my jawline, and biting on the lobe of my ear.

"Dude, get a room!" I squeaked as a patented, tween voice rang out behind us.

Eli leaned sideways, his eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to protest. I stopped him. We were up against a chain link fence surrounding a little league field. There were parents, kids, coaches- it was all kinds of domestic hell...and here we were, making out in the middle of it all.

"Come on Eli," I said, pulling him forward by an elbow.

"Man, you're lucky I love you," he muttered as we made our way down the street. "That kid was begging for a beat down."

I raised a brow. "I do hope you mean a _verbal _beat down..."

A wicked grin danced on his lips. "Naturally."

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "You're too much," I murmured.

"Yeah, but you have faith in me anyway." He was smiling like a madman.

I stopped and turned to face him. "I do...and I want to be there, at the hearing."

Eli furrowed his brows in thought. "I don't know, Clare..." he replied.

"Let me re-phrase," I continued, ignoring his skepticism. "I'm _going _to be there."

He looked away.

"Eli, I'm invested in you!" I exclaimed. "I'm invested in this entire situation. I'm not going to miss this, alright?"

"Fine," he grumbled. His cheeks were flushed and he refused to meet my eyes.

"Eli, what-"

"I have to go." He pulled away from me and tromped down the street.

He did not look back.

I let him go. I didn't feel like trying to make heads or tails of the issue. I was too tired to care at that point. I would call him tomorrow and smooth everything over.

But that plan proved difficult.

Eli avoided me for the rest of the week. He wouldn't take my calls, he wouldn't acknowledge my emails- I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. I thought about cornering him in school so I could demand an explanation but he didn't show. Not even Adam had spoken to him. It was as if he had fallen off the face of the earth! I tried going to his house but his father told me he wasn't home. Isaac Goldsworthy had looked a little guilty telling me that, and I couldn't help but think he might be fibbing, covering for his son. _Perfect, now they're thick as theives and I'm the dysfunctional girlfriend. _

I met up with Adam at The Dot the day before the hearing to confide in him about my concerns. I wanted his input- thought he might be able to figure out why Eli was acting this way. We sat up at the bar and sipped lattes, sharing a big chocolate chip cookie.

"So, what was the last thing you said to him?" Adam asked, frowning.

I sighed, tapping the counter with a finger. "I told him I wanted to go to the hearing."

Biting his bottom lip, Adam looked thoughtful. "And...he seemed angry?" he replied.

"Yeah, he did. It was almost as if he didn't want me going..."

He glanced away, suddenly looking squeamish. "Did he say why?"

Crossing my arms, I lifted a brow. "What are you hiding, Adam?" I demanded.

Shimmying in his seat, he cleared his throat. "Er, nothing..."

"Bullshit." It was curt and loud and earned the attention of a few nearby patrons.

Cocking his head, Adam finally met my eyes. "Okay, he might have asked about how you handled things while he was out," he admitted.

Shaking my head, I covered my mouth.

"I told him that you'd dealt with some hard times-"

"Did you tell him about Owen and Fitz?" I cut in, my tone dangerously low.

Adam's eyes widened and he swallowed hard. "I...not about Owen."

"Goddamn it, Adam!" I cried. "That was _personal_!"

"But he asked me," he defended.

"Oh, so just because someone asks you something you think that gives you the right to tell them whatever they want to know?" I hissed, my face flushing in anger. "This is _my _life you were talking about. I don't sit there and talk about you behind _your _back when Eli asks!"

Adam blinked, his face twisting with regret. "You're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry Clare, I should have let you tell him about Fitz."

"Yes, you should have," I replied. "What if he thinks-"

"He doesn't think that anything went on between you two," Adam interrupted, his tone reassuring, "...but he _was _confused. I think he's afraid you might have changed or something."

"How could he think that?" I threw up my hands in aggravation. "I love _him_, not Fitz!"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know, Clare," he said, "but I think Eli is scared of losing you."

I palmed my face in befuddlement. "But I'm not going anywhere," I mumbled.

My head hit the counter and I groaned. I needed to get out of there and process all of this crap before I saw Eli at the hearing the next day.

"Ugh...look, I've got to sift through my thoughts before tomorrow." My voice was muffled but you could still make out my discomfiture.

Adam placed a hand on my shoulder and I peered up at him. "Just remember that he's acting this way because he's afraid, not because he's a jerk."

I told Adam that I would keep that in mind and I took off, hoping to have sufficient time to mull over this new information before the next day.

No such luck. Morning came quickly and I was on my way to the courthouse by nine, mind reeling in anticipation. My mother dropped me off in front of the large, stone building and I kept my eyes on my feet as I hastened inside. I had a habit of doing that- I'd done it since I was a little girl. It had started with a superstition- I didn't want to step on the cracks- and, as I grew older, it developed into a tick. Eli had asked me about it once, before we had gotten together. He did that a lot- asked me about myself. It was one thing I enjoyed the most...he was, interested in me. K.C. had never been big on getting to know the real Clare, he simply labeled me what he thought I was- boring, Christian conformist- and moved on because he could do 'better'. Eli seemed to care.

Or, at least, I _thought _he did.

I found the courtroom pretty easily. It was industrial- all modern wood, nothing like the historic looking courtroom you'd see on television. A large, oak bench sat beneath a round seal depicting Toronto's judicial crest. A small partition divided the audience from the area where the judge and the lawyers were seated. I took a bench a few rows from the front. The attorneys were already there, pouring over their notes, and I spied Eli just behind the prosecution, speaking to his father in low tones. He looked handsome in his vintage, black suit- a lot like a Beatle- and I felt my heart speed up as I stared at him. As if feeling my heavy gaze, he turned around and our eyes met. He faltered for just a moment, obviously floored by my presence, and I could see the pain in his expression. Leaning over, he said something to his father and then rose, making his way over to me.

"Hi." He was nervous- I could feel it.

I didn't care- I wanted answers.

"Eli, why haven't you called me? What's going on?" I was so flumuxed by his behavior, tears began to fall without any kind of intention on my part. Losing him once to accident was one thing, but a second time to choice...that was another thing entirely.

Dropping on the bench beside me, he rubbed his palms on his pantlegs. "I...needed time to think."

"And you couldn't have texted me?" I snapped. I couldn't help it- his obscurity made me crazy.

He took my hand, a rueful expression on his face. "I'm sorry...really, Clare, I am," he replied. "I should have told you but I was angry."

"Look, I know you didn't want me to come today because you think I'm-"

"No," he cut in, his tone forceful.

I blinked in succession. "No. No...what?" I asked.

"All rise!" A bailef stood by the bench, announcing the judge's arrival. Eli glanced towards the front- the prosecutor was waving him over.

"Shit," he muttered. "I've got to go. I'll explain everything after, alright?"

I shrugged. "Whatever."

He gave me a pleading look and squeezed my hand. "Please say you'll hear me out?"

A tiny smile breached my stoic mug. "Of course I will. I'm going to need a good reason to kick your butt for ignoring me for three whole days."

"Duly noted," he replied and scurried back to his seat.

The proceedings began and I sat back and listened to how the judicial system worked. It was interesting, not unlike Law & Order, and I soon found myself engrossed in legal ease. Of course, I stiffened when they brought Fitz and Michael out, but that was to be expected. Even still, it was strange to see them looking so...orange. Because they plead guilty, the procedure was pretty cut and dry. They asked for the plea and then for any testimony on behalf of either side. This was strictly for sentencing.

"Would the prosecution like to call any witnesses?" The judge, a middle aged, auburn haired woman with deep set eyes, asked.

"Yes, your honor." The Assistant D.A., a young, clean cut gentleman with a finely tailored suit, stood up. "We would like to call Elijah Goldsworthy to the stand."

I sat up, watching Eli approach the bench. He glanced briefly at Fitz and Michael as he sat down, the same uncertainty in his eyes.

"Please state your name for the court."

"Elijah Goldsworthy," he said.

"Alright, Elijah-"

"_Eli_," he interrupted.

The prosecutor grinned. "Eli," he amended. "Can you tell us what happened the night that the two Defendants accosted you?"

Nodding, Eli's gaze drifted in my direction. He wagged his jaw for a moment, as if unsure what he would say. I leaned forwad on instinct and gave him a reassuring smile. Blinking, he shook his head and an odd smirk split his features. It was almost...relieved.

"Eli?" the A.D.A. stressed.

He turned back to the prosecutor and smiled. "Yeah, right, the night that Fitz and Michael decided to play a little joke on me."

The attorney shifted on his feet, looking a bit befuddled.

"You see, Fitz and Mike decided it would be funny to kidnap me," Eli continued. "It was all an attempt to scare me away- Fitz liked my girlfriend and he wanted to impress how 'dangerous' he could be." He shruggednon-commitally. "So he and two of his friends grabbed me and took me up to The Ravine behind Degrassi. When we got there, they took me to the gulley and pretended to play Russian Roulette with an old revolver."

I shuddered- it happened every time I heard the story.

"And I assume this was quite a traumatic experience for you." The A.D.A piped up.

"Well, it wasn't exactly the best time I've ever had," Eli replied. "But the gun wasn't loaded."

"Even so, it must have been horrendous to have to go through such an ordeal!"

"I suppose," he admitted. "But I understand why he...uh, Fitz, did it."

An attorney for the defendants stood up. He was older, graying around his ocher face, and he had a wise, knowing look about him.

"Your honor, I would like the witness to clarify," he boomed, his voice strong and persuasve. "By Fitz I assume he means defendant Marcus Fitzgerald?"

"Yep," Eli replied.

"Thank you," the attorney said and sat back down.

The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Eli, you were saying that it was a horrific ordeal..."

He lifted a brow. "Uh, actually, we had moved past that part," he corrected, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I was telling you that I understood why Marcus Fitzgerald," he looked positively smug while saying that, "did what he did."

"Well, that really wasn't the question," the A.D.A. rejoined. "If that will be all, I think we're done here."

The judge bent forward. "No, Mr. Dealsim, that is not all. I would like to hear what Mr. Goldsworthy has to say," she intoned, turning in her seat. "Please, Eli, go on..."

The prosecutor slumped in defeat as Eli began to explain.

"Well, Mark fell in love with my girlfriend," he said. "And, even though that's no excuse for what he did, I understand the motivation. You see, Clare..." he turned towards the judge in explanation, "that's my girlfriend, she's...captivating. She's one of those girls that people stop and stare at, not because she's beautiful, because she's really that bright. Clare is essentially love in the physical. She's the most giving, the most caring girl I've ever met. She does not judge, she does not assume- she's just...open."

I thought I was going to pass out. This was almost too much for me to handle. Once, I'd considered Eli's poetic saranade as the be all, end all. Here, it paled in comparison. My heart was pounding as he explained everything and, on some level, I knew it was also an explanation for his absence these past few days.

His eyes sought me out as he continued on. "I guess you could say that, for someone who's life is in severe need of love, Clare is like a drug." He pressed his lips together, clearly holding back his emotion. "When you feel like you're losing her, you become possessive...almost crazy because you think you can't live without her, you think that life won't continue if she's not there." He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. "And that's exactly what happened to Mark. He fell for the way she made him feel about himself...and he felt threatened by me. He's had a rough turn- his home life isn't the best- so I get it. My home life wasn't exactly tops, either. So, in a way, we're a lot alike."

The judge lifted her brows. "And, Mr. Lear?" she inquired.

Eli looked at her. "He was just trying to help a friend."

Tapping her chin with a finger, the judge hummed to herself. "Indeed..." she turned back to the courtroom. "Well, if there are any other witnesses to be called?"

The prosecutor shook his head, looking quite annoyed with the proceedings.

The defense attorney stood up. "I think everything has been said, thank you, your honor." He tipped his head in Eli's direction. "And thank you, Mr. Goldsworthy."

The judge smiled and waved Eli back to his seat. "Thank you, Mr. Goldsworthy, you may be seated."

Eli cracked a crooked grin and made his way back to his seat, but not before shooting me a wink. I flushed, gobsmacked by his candid testimony.

"Well, I think that's sufficient," the judge announced. "I will see you all back here in a week for sentencing."

And, with that, the hearing was over. Everyone left the courtroom- both Fitz and Michael glanced at me as they were led away and I gave them each a small, encouraging smile.

"So..."

I looked up- Eli was standing over me, looking anxious.

"So, that was some testimony," I replied, clasping my hands in my lap.

Eli stepped forward and took a seat beside me. "I meant every word."

I cocked my head in understanding. "I know you did," I whispered, hoping to quash the emotion bubbling up inside of me.

"These past few days were not about you," he said suddenly.

I furrowed my brows. "Then what was it-"

"Me," he interjected.

"You..." I stared at him, completely bemused.

"I had to know that I wasn't like Fitz, Clare," he explained. "When you said you wanted to come to the hearing, I saw red. I kept thinking that you wanted to go because of him. All I could think about was keeping you away. I...I can't even stand the thought of you two together." He clenched his fists in anger. "And I know you were while I was out..."

My entire body snapped sideways and I gripped his wrist. "No, we weren't," I growled. "Whatever Adam told you, whatever your mind has concocted- it's not real. It's a fabrication of the ego- not the heart."

Eli smiled. "Clare, I know that."

"Then why..."

"I realized that I was acting just like him, and that's the last thing I wanted to do. I love you because of who you are, not because of how you make me feel about myself. I don't want to manipulate or control our relationship," he declared, turning his hand over so he could take mine. "I want to keep it real, natural- I want it to continue on without anything mucking it up...especially my baseless woes."

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. "_Really_?" I whispered.

"Yes, really," he rejoined, a wide smile splitting his features. "I didn't decide to love again just to bugger it all up."

Biting my lip, I nodded. "Yeah, well, you were pretty close there..."

He reached out, cupping my face with his hand. "You look beautiful, you know."

"Way to skirt the issue, Eli," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"I love you, Edwards." His eyes bored into mine, green and soulful.

I smirked. "There, you did it again! You are such a ca-"

Eli really was rather sneaky with his kisses. The kid should be a sniper he's so goddamn covert. But, as his lips danced against mine, I decided to overlook his mistake. Ultimately, his foil had led to greater knowledge- he was able to set himself apart from the limitations of others. It was a healthy step, and one he had taken on his own. Of course, much of his progression somehow involved me but, that was to be expected.

We were a match in every way.


	13. Chapter 13

Alright kids, here is Meanignless Meeting as promised. Sorry for the hold up but I've been super busy blogging and building my author website. By teh way, the link to my site is on my profile page for anyone who might be interested. There is plenty of information on my books and your basic insanity as well.

Thanks again for reading.


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